The Night The Lights Went Out in Georgia
by scarlett2112
Summary: Fresh from a talk with her grandmother, Elena faces a troubling assignment: she must go to a tiny Georgia town to dig into an old murder case. Dogged by ghosts of the past and with the help of a small town sheriff, she must unravel the psychological puzzle if she wants to get the story - and identify the real killer.
1. Chapter 1

"Grandma," Elena walks to her bedside and takes her hand. The old woman, Margaret is her maternal grandmother and she's dying. She suspects that's why she was summoned although she was making plans to come home anyway. In the dark room, even the ticking clock has an edgy feeling, as if it's a heart-beat at rest. To Elena it feels as if the air moves like cool water and the aroma of her grandma's scented candles infuses her far more deeply than it would in the light of day. In the twilight the fabrics are muted hues, as if they too await dawn to ignite their colors.

She gazes at the old woman before her. The lines on her face are deep and saggy. Still it's her litheness and articulate speech that resemble the echo of youth in someone so old. Sometimes she imagines pulling away the mask of age to see the person inside, the girl she was all those years ago. Then she realizes she doesn't have to. If she listens to her words and pays attention to her smile, to her eyes, she's still in there as much as she ever was.

"Sit down, Elena," she gestures at a chair with her head.

"Daddy said you wanted to talk to me."

"I did dear, I have a story to tell you about my brother, your great uncle John."

"Was uncle John named after him?"

"Yes," she nods and points to photo album laying on her lap. Turning the pages, she pulls out a photograph and hands it to Elena. Her mouth drops slightly at the uncanny resemblance between her uncle and her great uncle.

"It's almost eerie how much they look alike," Elena looks up.

"Have you ever heard the word doppelganger?"

"Yes, I've heard the word, I've just never seen proof of it till now," her eyes drop back to the photo.

"It was just us."

"I don't know that I've ever heard dad talk about his uncle John."

"After he died, I didn't talk about him for a long time. It was too painful to remember... I had young children to raise," her eyes drift to the window for a moment.

"Dad said you had something specific you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, there is. You're a reporter, Elena. You have sources, you know people. The reason I asked you here is that I want you to go to Georgia and find out who really killed Logan Fell. What I want more than anything is to clear John's name before I die. I know this is asking a lot and it won't be easy. The murder was 40 years ago. I will give you money and whatever resources you need, just please say yes, it's very important to me."

"Okay, can you tell me what happened?"

"Why don't you go get us each a glass of sweet tea and then I'll tell you," Margaret smiles and pats Elena's hand. Nodding, she stands up, leans over the bed and gives the old woman a kiss before leaving the room to get their drinks. When she returns, her grandma's eyes are closed so Elena turns to carefully back out of the room, but stops when she hears her name.

"I'm not sleeping, I just closed my eyes for a moment, now give you grandma a glass of that delicious tea," she takes a long swallow when Elena hands it to her. "In that top drawer is a file, it contains everything I could find out about the murder, the parties involved, newspaper clippings, I want you to have it, maybe it'll help? But first let me tell you what happened, climb up here," she pats the bed next to her and scoots over to give her granddaughter some room. Elena smiles and hops on the high four-poster canopy bed. Taking her hand, Margaret gives it a squeeze then settles back into her pillows, closes her eyes and begins to tell John's story.

_Parking his car, John pulls up to Webb's for a drink after a two week trip to Candletop. His ass hurts after the long drive so he stands, resting his elbows on the bar top. Just as he lifts the tumbler to his mouth, Logan Fell slides onto the stool beside him._

_"Hello, John," he signals the bartender for another beer._

_"Logan, what's up?" _

_"Sit down, I got some bad news... It won't be pleasant." _

_A little concerned, he stares at Logan for a few moments before taking a seat. _

_"I'm your best friend, it's my job to tell you the truth... always, no matter the fallout."_

_"What are you talking about?" he signals the bartender to refill his bourbon. _

_"You have no one to go home to. Your young bride isn't there," he pauses to take a long pull from his cigarette and lights John's. "Since you've been gone, she's been seeing Seth Amos." _

_John's face fills with rage and he slams his glass against the bar top, shattering it. _

_"Don'tcha lose your head or do something stupid... As long as we're being honest here, I have to tell you, I've been with her myself." _

_John reels back, landing a hard punch to Logan's jaw. He drops like a sack of potatoes. Pulling him to his feet, John hits him again and again, leaving his face bloodied and raw before stomping out of the bar to confront his wife. _

_Scared, Logan picks himself up, buys a 6 pack and leaves the bar to go home. His place isn't far away. Wiping the blood off his split lip and nose, he could kick himself, he doesn't have many friends to begin with and now he lost one. _

_When John gets home, Isobel is nowhere to be found. Thinking she must've left town, he digs through his drawers, finding the only thing his papa left him... a gun. With it firmly in his hand, he goes to Logan's house, creeping through the backwoods as quietly as possible so as not to alert his prey. He's surprised to find some footprints. Stooping down, he runs his finger through one, it's obvious that they're not Logan's, they're too small. Peaking through the front door, he sees his former friend lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. He starts to shake and backs out of the house._

_The Georgia Patrol is making their rounds so John raises his arm and fires a shot in the air to flag them down. Soon a patrol car pulls up. A big bellied sheriff steps out and ambles over to him. _

_"Logan's dead." John says matter-of-factly, but too slow to be normal. When he speaks his voice trails sluggishly. _

_The lawman walks inside and gives the body a cursory glance then grabs the gun from John's hand. "Why'd ya do it?" _

_The trial was a sham, John didn't even get a chance to defend himself. The judge declared him "Guilty!" after the jury deliberated for no more than a half hour. Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom but the Judge simply didn't care. He whispered something to the sheriff, slapped him on the back like a good ole boy and left the courtroom. _

"They hung my brother without giving him the opportunity to defend himself. They didn't know whose footprints John saw that night outside of Logan's house. As far as I know, they didn't even make any casts of them. His cheating wife Isobel vanished, she wasn't at the trial."

"That sounds like a giant miscarriage of justice," Elena remarks incredulously.

"I know my brother was innocent, he was the most gentle man I've ever known. I laid my hand on his casket and promised myself, Elena, that I would get him justice. It's not that I haven't tried, I even hired a private detective but he was a local guy and got nowhere. When I was younger, I had my children to raise, a husband, my own life, and as the years passed, less and less people remembered, no one really cared anymore except me. But now, I don't know how much time I have left and so it's taken on a new urgency. So I'm asking you to help me keep that promise," her grasp on the younger woman's hand tightens as a tear slips from her eye.

"Of course I'll help you grandma."

"Thank you sweetheart, in that drawer over there is John's file. There's also a bank account number and a credit card to finance your travels."

"I don't want to take your money," Elena protests, shaking her head.

"I can't expect you to bankrupt yourself for me. Please take it," she reaches for a Kleenex to wipe her eyes.

"Alright Grandma," she slips off the bed and opens the file box, pulling out the one labeled John Anders, her grandma's maiden name. "You have quite a bit here," she mentions, skimming through it.

"I've spent 40 years collecting that, Elena," she covers her mouth to yawn.

"You're tired?" Elena closes the file and steps beside the bed. "I'll let you take a nap, I'll dig into this and we'll talk later. Okay?"

"That sounds good dear…" her voice trails off and she can see the woman's already asleep.

Elena leans over, wispily kisses her cheek, blows out the candle and then tiptoes out, the file safely in her arms.

* * *

_I hope you liked the first chapter. Eva and I are working very hard and writing everyday._

_We don't know how to properly thank you all. We're constantly amazed, humbled and deeply grateful for your enthusiasm and support for this and our other stories. _

_Thank you Eva. She's the best writing partner ever. _

_Thank you to all of you. You're the best of the DE fandom. _

_Have a terrific day. We'll see you next time with chapter two._


	2. When We First Met

Elena massages her throbbing temples as she glances at her computer screen. After her grandmother told her John's story, she dove right into the file, doing as much digging as she can, with her grandma answering her questions to the best of her ability. 40 years have passed since John was executed, she's more than impressed with her grandmother's recall of that seminal event in her life.

The words start to blur together so she gets up to stretch and refill her coffee cup. As much as she wants to honor her grandmother's wishes and find out who really killed Logan Fell, she has her doubts, 40 years is a long time. Sitting back down, she blinks rapidly and presses her forehead into her hand. Groaning, she reaches for a her bottle of aspirin, downs a couple and leans back in her chair. Her eyes drift to the ceiling for a few moments before forcing them back to the screen. Stifling a yawn, she rubs her bleary eyes and when her thoughts become groggy, she powers it down and crawls into bed for some much needed sleep.

From the carousel of random ideas comes some order - a subtle awareness of who she is under the flow of thoughts. Her eyelids flicker open to the sunlit room. She steals a glance at the pointless alarm clock, glowing red, and reaches out to turn off the buzzer... Normally she's not up this early but she has a plane to catch. Hearing a knock on her door, she throws her legs over the bedside and stumbles groggily to the door. "Dad?"

"I thought you might need a little push to get up," he laughs. "Coffee's ready downstairs and your grandmother wants to say goodbye."

"K dad, I'm going to take a quick shower then I'll be downstairs."

He nods and then walks off, disappearing when he trots down the staircase.

* * *

Once she's finished with breakfast, Elena runs back upstairs to quickly throw a few last minutes things into her suitcase then leaves her room and walks down the hallway to her grandmother's. Setting her bag down, she knocks on the door, cracking it open when she hears the old woman's voice.

"Elena, come in dear."

"I just wanted to tell you goodbye. Honestly, grandma, I think this might be searching for a needle in a haystack but I'll do whatever I can to. You have my word."

"I know you'll do your best, if all roads are closed, come home. I trust you to know when to do that."

"Thanks Grandma," she leans in to give and receive a hug back.

"Have a safe trip," Margaret squeezes her hand.

"I'll keep in touch. I love you," Elena smiles and leaves the room, picks up her suitcase and hurries outside where her dad is waiting to take her to the airport.

* * *

Clouds pool around the Blue Ridge Mountains, slightly changing from pearl white to a calm yellow, warmly glowing in the summer sunshine. The aerial view is spread beneath, a network of roads and rail sprawled below, mazes of cul-de-sacs, houses like the tiny models on an architect's street plan, expanses of green, neat rectangular parks, lakes shimmering like oval face mirrors, a river winding slowly like an ethereal gift from God Himself, green clumps of woodland with raggedy edges, arteriole roads like canals of tarmac, match box cars, spires of churches with weather vanes, patchwork of farms and villages, great smoke stacks spewing silver plumes.

When the light flashes to buckle her seatbelts and the pilot announces that they're preparing to land, she stuffs her tablet in her purse. Gripping the armrests, she braces herself for the jolt when the plane's wheels hit the runway. Relaxing when it starts taxiing to its gate, Elena looks out the window at Hartsfield International. The first thing she needs to do after getting her suitcase is rent a car and drive to Blue Ridge, Georgia.

Getting in line, she takes her turn to exit the plane, from there she follows the signs to the luggage carousel assigned to her flight. While waiting for the baggage to drop, she pulls out her cellphone, texting her dad to let him know she arrived safely. She also messages her best friend, Caroline who lives in Atlanta with her husband Nik.

Although Caroline tries to convince her to postpone her trip for an overnight, Elena bows out, promising they'll get together before she flies back home. Once she has her rental car, she slips down her sunglasses, pulls onto the highway, rolling down the window and letting the wind blow through her long brunette mane.

The traffic is a little heavier than she expected, it's about a 2 hour drive normally but she loves the scenery so she takes her time, evening pulling off the interstate to get use the bathroom and get an Ultra Paradise energy drink.

Incorporated in 1886 and located in the northeast corner of Georgia, in the Chattahoochee National forest is the City of Blue Ridge. It's a small town, less than 1500 people but from what Elena can see, it's a tourist mecca, it's absolutely something out of a Normal Rockwell painting. Named for the southern reach of the Appalachian Mountain Range that stretches into the area, the City of Blue Ridge boasts beautiful panoramic views.

If her mission was different, Elena could easily imagine vacationing here, hiking in those awe-inspiring mountains, maybe even pulling out a rod and reel since Blue Ridge is apparently the Trout Fishing Capital of Georgia. Unfortunately she has more important matters to dive into, namely digging into John's death. She can't help but wonder how the locals will react to her stirring the pot after so many years.

As she drives downtown, she notices quaint little shops and restaurants, tourist traps. Tracks for the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway bisect the downtown area, with the Scenic Railway itself operating out of the town's historic 100 year old Depot. According to her research, the downtown area also serves as host for multiple festivals and the city is home to the Swan Drive-In theater. Having never been to an outdoor theatre, Elena knows right now that she's somehow going to see a movie before she flies home.

She turns into the Comfort Inn to rent a room for a couple of nights. She can always stay longer if she needs to, she suspects as much. Once she gets in her room, she lays down on the bed to rest for a little while after her flight and the drive up here. Opening her laptop, she types in the name of the small town where her great uncle John was hanged all those years ago. Rather than lay around, she stuffs her Mac book into her bag, locks her room door and jumps into her car for the 20 minute drive.

When she reaches the outskirts of town, there's a big sign pronouncing Ellijay as the "Apple Capital" of Georgia. Something makes her stop and pull to the side of the road. Getting out of the car, she looks out over the tree line at the acres and acres of trees surrounding them. It still astounds her that only 40 years ago, her great uncle would have been hanged. Shaking it off, Elena continues her drive into town, turning into a parking spot in front of the police station. Staring at the old stone building for a few minutes, she sucks in a breath, steps out, slams the car door shut and walks up the stairs and into the building.

"Can I help you miss?" a young woman asks.

"Yes, I was wondering if I could speak to the sheriff?"

"He's out on patrol. My name is Vicky, why don't you tell me what you want him for?"

The way the woman is considering Elena sets her senses on alert. "I'm investigating an old murder. I was hoping there would be some records I could look at?"

"Whose murder?"

"Logan Fell, a man named John Anders was hanged for it."

"Have a seat, I'll see if there's anything in the files," Elena nods and sits down while Vicky walks into another room. Several minutes later, she returns, hands a box to Elena and walks her into an empty room so she can look at it. "Are you a reporter or something?" she pops her bubblegum.

"I am a reporter," Elena opens it up, she fills a chill to see the gun, tagged and just laying there. What's even more shocking is that there are some crime scene photos given how quickly they strung John up. Although there's photos of the footprints, as her grandmother stated, there are no plaster moldings of them. "Is the house still standing, the one Mr. Fell was murdered in?"

"Yeah, but nobody lives there."

"Can you show me where it is, the address is written down here but how do I get there?"

"Well you go down Main Street, and turn by the bar. It's about a half mile out of town, there's a path that leads to it or you can drive..."

"Thank you for your help. I'm going to look over this stuff a little longer, I'll bring it out when I'm done," Elena drops her eyes to the box's contents again.

"Sure hon," she pops her gum again and steps out, closing the door behind her.

Pulling her glasses out of her handbag, she puts them on and starts to peruse the old paper, the edges yellowing and cracked. "What a screw up?" she says aloud when she doesn't even find a ballistics report. Her temper flares when she finds what she suspects is the bullet that killed Logan Fell in a plastic baggie, with only a date written on it. "Unbelievable!"

Hearing a rap on the door, she looks up to see Vicky again. "I thought you might like a cup of coffee?" she slides it in front of her.

"Thank you, Vicky, I could definitely use one."

When she leaves again, Elena starts to photograph every piece of evidence in the file and after finishing her coffee, she carefully puts everything back in the box. Sighing, she picks it up and walks out, handing it back to the helpful young brunette.

"I drew you a little map to the old Fell place," she hands Elena a piece of paper.

"Thank you," she smiles and leaves the building. Sliding into her car, she waves when she sees Vicky staring at her as she backs out. Driving out of town, she finds the place without much trouble. She stares at it for a moment before pulling on the latch to open the door.

Stepping out, she approaches cautiously. Hearing a crack like a twig breaking, she stops and looks around but doesn't see anyone. Feeling a shiver creep up her spine, she goes back to the car, pulls the pepper spray out of her bag and sticks it in her pocket.

Sucking in a breath, she puts her hand on the knob and twists it open. Stepping inside, she tries to ignore the creaking. She passes by cracked windows and moldy, browned wooden walls with water stains painting scars upon skin. Slivers of light shine from the outside. Cobwebs hang from the rafters and billow in the breeze that stir up the dust in the old building. They hung like great sheets of hair from an ancient hag, white, dirty looking and tangled. They are on the frosted panes of the windows too, obscuring the little light that struggles to get through them.

In the pale light of the old house, the cobwebs lie as traps. Each one is enough to set her heart beating faster than it should. Walking into them is the only sound in this whole place other than her footfalls and breathing. They crackle softly as they contact her face. Much of the stickiness the spider gave them is gone, encased in layers of dust, yet they still cling in a way that spooks her. She wants to run but she made a promise to her grandmother.

Walking through a narrow doorway, she shines her phone light on the floor, gasping aloud when she sees a large dark stain. Could it still be Logan Fell's blood? At this point, she can almost smell it, nearly taste it, like curdled milk on her tongue. Goosebumps erupt but she starts taking pictures and then moves further into the house.

She peers through the slats, the light streaming in. It looks just like the rest: quaint in size, aging, and creepy. Some of the floorboards are caved and broken, leaving the two simple pieces of furniture sloped towards the dirt waiting for them. Then she still sees it... the tiny ornate piece of jewelry. Could it have belonged to John's wife or was it left by some random hook up? Picking it up, she drops it in her pocket, finishes looking over the place then hurries outside and inhales a deep breath of fresh air.

Screwing up her face, she tries brushing the cobwebs off her clothing. The first thing she's going to do when she gets back to her hotel is shower. Tossing her phone and pepper spray on the passenger seat, she buckles up, ignites the engine and drives back into town. Although she's a little hungry, she'll wait till she gets back to Blue Ridge to pick something up.

Wanting to get the musty smell out of her hair and clothes, she rolls down the window and presses her foot on the gas pedal. She also turns the radio up, jiggling up and down to the beat. The highway yawns wide before her with only a light smattering of traffic. It's four thirty in the afternoon. As she gets farther away from town, she starts weaving, passing and punching the gas pedal.

After going around a curve, coming from behind there is a sudden, distinct blast from a siren and a police cruiser appears in her mirror, the red and blue lights flashing brightly.

"Shit!"

She pulls to the side of the road, comes to a stop and waits for the officer to get out and make his approach. How fast had she been going anyway? Seventy? Eighty?

The minutes drag on slowly and her heart beat is thrumming along faster than it ever has. Glancing into her side view mirror, she sees the officer climbs out and rests his notepad on the trunk... Her hands are gripping the steering wheel hard and tight as he approaches her.

Leaning over to peer in through the window at her, he arches an eyebrow. "Where's the fire?"

* * *

_I didn't know if I'd be here to update this. About a month ago, I came down with both the flu and strep throat. I started getting sick again a few days ago, turns out I have the flu a second time. (what are the odds?) Yesterday I woke up with shaking chills and a 102 plus fever. The ER gave me fluids and IV antibiotics. I honestly thought they were going to admit me, turns out I have pneumonia in addition to the flu. And YES, I did have my flu shot last fall. _

_Thanks so very much for the warm welcome for this story. There'll be more Damon from here on out. ;) _

_Thank you Eva, like I've said before, I have these ideas pop into my head and you're always will to take the leap with me. Although to give her due credit, she is the plot goddess extraordinaire. _

_Chapter title: 'When We First Met' by Hellogoodbye_

_Daddysadist is fairly new and I'm sure she'd love to hear from you all. Mariah April May is working on a DE/HP story and a rewrite of her gangster one. Justinia Korax, Amazing Aisha, Linax24 and Mardre Ebridge have compelling stories in progress too. HisDelusionalLover, her homage to Damon is adorable. SalvatoreBoys4Ever just finished her Christmas story and is working on her COHB sequel. And although my dear friend Florencia7 doesn't have anything new, her stories can be read repeatedly, they're all brilliant, her DE's are something truly special._

_Let us know what you think. We're hard at work on two stories and then hopefully we can start on the SIMM sequel. _

_Have a terrific day, thank you all, you're amazing beyond words. We'll see you next time._


	3. I Can Help

_Leaning over to peer in through the window at her, he arches an eyebrow. "Where's the Fire?" _

The police officer stands beside in the lazy heat of the afternoon sun. He's the very epitome of authority with his gun hanging idly at his hip, the highway reflected in his over-large sunglasses. But she can't help imagine that he must be sweating in that crisp blue uniform.

"Ha ha," Elena smiles sarcastically.

"You were doing 80 in a 65 mile an hour zone. There's curves ahead, it's dangerous."

"I didn't realize I was speeding but it's not like I got my license yesterday," she retorts flippantly.

"Cut the crap lady, I need your driver's license, registration and proof of insurance."

"It's a rental car."

"It should still have a registration. Now if you don't mind...?"

"Seriously?" she mutters under her breath. She pulls her license out of her wallet and opens the glove box where the rental papers are. Opening the envelope, she hands him the registration but can't find the proof of insurance. "Look," she hands him the two items, "I told the clerk that I wanted insurance, it's not my fault if she didn't put it in the rental packet."

"Would you step out of the car please... Miss," he looks at her license, "Gilbert?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to, that's why," he gives her a toothy sarcastic smile of his own.

Rolling her eyes, she opens the door, stepping out when he backs up to give her room.

"Face the car please?"

"Don't tell me this is some "_Deliverance"_ like county?" she crosses her arms over her chest, refusing to comply with his direct order.

"Alright, if you don't want to play nice, we'll play it my way. You're under arrest."

"What the hell for?" she snaps, fisting her hands when he turns her around and slaps a pair of handcuffs on her.

"Let's go."

"You will hear from my attorney for unlawful arrest," she finally looks at the name badge on his uniform, "Sheriff Salvatore. You won't get away with this," she threatens, as he pulls her towards his squad car. After opening the backdoor, he gives her enough of a shove, forcing her in.

"I look forward to it," he adds, slamming the door shut. After locking her car up, he grabs her handbag and trots over to the police cruiser. He makes a U-turn and drives back into the town that Elena just left.

* * *

Taking her by the arm, he leads her into the police station. This time instead of being given the privacy of an empty room, she finds herself behind bars with only a flimsy cot to sit on.

"Aren't I supposed to get one phone call?"

Damon looks at her as he turns the key. His eyes are the cool blue of a shark as he watches her from across the empty cell. "You wouldn't be here in the first place if you had shown even the tiniest bit of respect."

"So you're arresting me for not respecting you? My lawyer will have a field day with this one horse town," she fumes.

"Okay, lady. What's your problem anyway? You've given me nothing but grief since I picked you up. If you're going to act like a child, I'll treat you like one, that means finger foods for your meal because utensils can be dangerous in the hands of little ones," he arches an eyebrow.

"Sheriff, a lady stopped by...," Vicky stops mid sentence when she sees Elena waving at her with her fingers.

"What you know about this woman?" Damon's eyes snap to hers.

"Yeah, she's the one. Wanted to know about Logan Fell's murder."

"Logan Fell? Now why would you be digging into that? That must've been almost 20 years before you were born?"

"I have my reasons, thank you very much," she eyes Vicky as if to say_ traitor._

"Do tell," Damon grabs the back of a wooden chair, opens the cell and sits down, locking them both in.

"Will you let me out if I confess?"

"I'll consider it."

"Fine..." she huffs, lifts up her feet and leans her back against the cell wall.

"Well?"

"Look, my grandmother is sick, possibly dying. John Anders, the man hung for the Fell murder was her brother. She believes he was railroaded all the way to the gallows. The reason I'm here is because she wants his name cleared before she dies."

"Why does she think her brother was innocent?"

"Well, she said he had a _"make believe trial_," she makes quotations marks with her fingers. "From what I could see in your Fell file, ballistics weren't even done on the murder weapon, no fingerprints. She told me that my uncle wore a size 13 shoe and that the footprints leading to Logan's house were much smaller than that."

"And?"

"Well, John's wife disappeared, my grandma said that no one knows what happened to her?"

"You have some compelling points, I'll give you that. I'm having your car towed in, I'll put in a call to the rental agency about your insurance. And then I will let you go after you pay a fine for speeding."

"Sure," she mumbles, rolling her eyes internally.

"I'm not the one being unreasonable here, Miss Gilbert," he eyes her pointedly.

"Just please hurry it up, I'm tired and hungry, I want to get back to my motel in Blue Ridge. And I don't want to let my grandmother down."

Damon sighs, stands up and unlocks the cell. Without saying a word, he steps out, pulling the door closed and locking it.

"You're not really going to make me stay here are you?"

"That depends on you," he adds before leaving her alone. Knocking her head against the wall, she lays down and curls onto her side, closing her eyes as she has nothing better to do.

* * *

"Damon," Vicky starts, "I let her look at the evidence..."

"What?"

"She told me she's a reporter, looking into the Fell murder. It's so long ago, I didn't think it would be an issue for her to look at the stuff."

"You what?

"I'm sorry, Damon."

"Don't let it happen again, Vick, we can't let just anyone waltz in here and go through our files. Would you please bring me what you allowed her to see?"

"Sure, Damon," she nods and quickly returns with the box.

"Thanks, would you mind running across the street and getting Miss Gilbert a soda and a sandwich," Damon hands her a few dollars. "You can go home after that."

"Of course," she quickly leaves the building.

_The Fell Murder._

It's been 40 years, his dad was a teenager back then but the small town still remembers. He recalls as kids they often ran to the Fell house, abandoned and overgrown with weeds and bushes and whispered repeated stories of Logan Fell and the Gilbert man who killed him. What if their ghosts kept coming back, maybe that's the reason why no one really lived there since that bloody night?

Damon opens the box, picks up the gun and runs his fingers over the smooth metal. He sees the bullet in the baggie and digs for a ballistics report in case Elena overlooked it. Troubled by what he finds or rather what he isn't finding, he puts the lid back on the box and is about to go to talk to his detainee when Vicky reappears.

"Thanks Vick, I'll see you tomorrow," he smiles and takes the brown paper bag and bottle of soda from her.

"Bye Damon," she smiles, grabs her handbag and leaves.

Tilting his head, he locks the door and walks back to see Elena. Seeing her asleep, he whistles causing her to lurch upright. "I brought you something."

"Thanks, she takes the soda and sack from him. "This smells amazing," she chomps down on the cheeseburger. "It's delicious," she mumbles, grabbing her soda to swallow it down.

Pulling up the chair again, Damon sits in it backwards and crosses his arms over the back. "I took a look into the box Vicky showed you. Judge Lockwood is still alive, retired but still has his head if you know what I mean. Sheriff Parker died years ago of a heart attack. It's too late now but tomorrow, we can go to the newspaper office, maybe they'd have something in their archives too. I will be sending that gun and bullet to the state ballistics lab. I don't know if your great uncle is innocent or not but I think there's enough questions to justify looking into it."

"Thank you, Sheriff Salvatore."

"You're welcome. Now you can either stay here overnight, drive back to Blue Ridge or come home with me. I have a spare bedroom. You have my word I'll be a gentleman."

Elena smiles, "Thank you, and I don't know why but I trust you."

"You're welcome, come on now, let's go," he stands up and she follows him out. He gives her back her purse, and takes her outside, opening the passenger side of the squad car for her. After locking up the office, he climbs in beside her and drives through town, stopping when he pulls into his driveway. "Here we are."

"Nice place," she mentions when looks at the moderate sized house, flower beds along the wrap around porch and evergreen trees on either side of the sidewalk.

"It's an old place, it belonged to my grandmother," Damon chuckles, lets her inside and leads her to his spare bedroom. "There's a bathroom down the hall if you want to shower. My sister uses this room when she visits so there's probably some pajamas in the dresser drawer."

"It's a little early yet isn't it?"

"Why don't you relax a little then come downstairs, we'll compare notes," he smiles and walks away, leaving her standing speechless in the doorway.

* * *

Elena finds him in the living room looking mighty fine in a tee shirt and jeans, his bare feet resting on the end table, his face buried in a file. She leans against the doorframe and stares at the fine specimen of manhood in front of her. She's the one that startles when something furry rubs against her legs. "You have a cat," she stoops down to pet it.

"Callie is partial to company," Damon laughs.

"She's beautiful," Elena joins him, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "Did anything pique your interest?" she asks, noticing that it's John's file.

"My town is clean, Miss Gilbert."

"Please call me Elena. I'm not saying your town isn't clean now but I think its hierarchy was very corrupt 40 years ago."

"As much as I hate to condemn its forbearers, I think you may be right. There's so much missing, his trial was within a couple weeks of the murder, that never happens and rather than go to the state prison, he was hanged. There's something very wrong here."

"Has anyone else been hanged here since that time?"

"No... at least not that I'm aware of. The culture is different here, Elena, or at least it was 40 years ago. Times have changed, our people have changed with it. There's no prejudice or ostracizing in this town, not anymore, not on my watch."

"Do you think the newspaper would have something?"

"I don't know but we'll find out." Damon picks up his beer bottle and takes a long swallow. "Forgive my manners, do you want one?"

"Sure," she smiles and picks up the local newspaper that's laying on the end table.

"Here you go," he twists the lid off and hands it to her while opening another for himself.

"Thank you," she feels something when his fingers brush against hers. To say that his eyes are blue is like saying that the sun is yellow. Sufficient but not accurate to capture the burning. Brushing off those thoughts, she takes a swallow and picks up one of the articles from the box.

Damon sits back down, takes another swig and settles back into the couch, relaxing after a long hot day.

"I think your cat likes me," she looks down at the animal curled up in her lap, purring. She yawns, covering her mouth.

"You've had an eventful day. We have a big one ahead of us tomorrow. I'm going to do a little more digging, I'll fill you in tomorrow morning. Get some rest."

"Thank you for everything," she yawns again and goes back to her room.

Damon throws his legs up, gets comfortable on the couch and starts to read but before long, his eyes dropped closed.

_Ten year old Damon cautiously walks along the stone steps to Logan's house, his ankles being tickled by the tendrils of weeds that have broken through the busted up sidewalk. The walls are bathed in a stream of silver light that spill through the clouded sky._

_He raises his gloved hand, through his frosted breath, and gently rattles his knuckles against the cold door. It lurches open. Damon's ears resonate with the quiet squeal of the hinges as foyer becomes visible. He peers through the darkness, his stomach knots as wave of fear crashes over him. He raises an unsteady leg and steps inside, leaving the door wide open. The wind howls - like the tormented cries of a tortured man. It blows across him, chilling him to the bone. _

_Tentatively, he walks up the crumbling stairs, a little afraid they may give under his weight. He can almost feel the presence of ghosts surrounding him and a cold tingle runs down his spine as the threadbare curtains rustle softly. He's absolutely petrified, he's here on a dare and therefore he must go further into the crumbling building._

_At the same time he sees the bloody stain, the smell of a rotting carcass pervades his senses. Feeling nauseous due to the pungent odor, he starts to retch and runs outside as quickly as he can, losing his lunch in the overgrown brush at the back of the house. _

In a cold sweat, Damon's eyes snap open. He hasn't had that dream in a very long time. Sitting up, he drops his face in his hands while he calms down. When a furry thing brushes against his bent arm, he looks up and exhales sharply. Rolling his eyes, he stands up, sets Callie on his shoulder then goes to his own room, hoping this time for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Good morning," Damon hands Elena a cup of coffee when she pokes her head into the kitchen looking for him.

"Thank you," she takes a long swallow. "So good."

"I'm glad you think so," he smiles and pulls out a chair for her. After handing her an empty plate, he takes the pancakes out of the warmer and sets them down before taking a seat across from her. Picking up her fork, she spears a couple, drizzles syrup over them and digs in. "Oh my God, these are out of this world," she mumbles while chewing her flap jacks.

Damon laughs, taking a bite himself. "I've never had that kind of a reaction before."

"You make pancakes for your lady friends often?" she arches an eyebrow and spears another one.

"Occasionally," he utters, reaching for more syrup.

"Hey I'm not judging," she chuckles and swallows what's left of her coffee.

"Good to know," he does the same, getting up to refill both their cups.

"When you're done, we'll run to the 'Times-Courier' office and see if they gave anything on microfilm or in their files about the Fell murder."

"Thank you, Damon. I apologize for being such a handful yesterday," she takes her last bite of pancake and pushes her plate to the side.

"A handful, I'd say more like a pain in my ass," he smirks at her.

"Ha ha," she gets up to set the dirty dishes in the sink. "I'm going to run and grab my things. Thanks for breakfast, it really was delicious."

"I aim to please," he turns off the coffee pot, looking over his shoulder at her behind as she walks away.

* * *

Damon parks the car in his designated spot. He tells Elena to wait while he goes inside to tell Vicky where he'll be if she needs him. Coming back outside, Elena steps in beside him and the two of them walk down the sidewalk towards the local newspaper office. Elena looks into the windows of the small shops as they move forward. The old brick buildings are almost romantic in appearance, they call to a simpler time. As they get closer, Elena notices a small park in the center where 4 streets intersect. The American and Georgia flags are flying, there's trees and park benches, like a tiny oasis.

"You should see the place in the fall during the Georgia Apple Festival. Every year hundreds of vendors offer food, art, crafts, and more. Visitors come from all over. There is a parade and antique car show each year. It may not sound like much to a city girl like you but it's a lot of fun," Damon explains, pulling open the door of the Times-Courier office and extending his arm for her to go inside first.

Elena looks around. At the desk is an older woman, not the kind to pity with their old bones and feeble limbs, but the kind who could still run an army kitchen given half a chance. She's quite regal looking and full figured. Her shoulder length hair is curly, salt and peppered, likely styled with old fashioned rollers, the kind women used to sleep in. Her face is made up with discrete make-up except her lips that are pinky nude lipstick.

"Good morning, Sheila," Damon greets his childhood babysitter with a huge smile. "This is my friend Elena Gilbert. She's writing an article about the old Fell murder. We were hoping maybe you'd have something in the old files?"

Sheila raises an eyebrow considering the young woman. Several seconds pass before she extends her hand, offering it to Elena. "Sheila Bennett."

"Hello, as the sheriff said, I'm trying to find out some information on the Fell murder, if there's any articles or something waiting to be uncovered?"

"Uncovered," her eyes drift skeptically to Damon.

"Elena, Miss Gilbert is here on behalf of her grandmother, Margaret Anders Gilbert, sister of John."

"I remember the Anders family. And yes, you do bear some resemblance to Maggie, that's what we used to call her," Sheila circles her then moves to stand beside Damon again.

"You knew my grandmother?"

"Of course, I've lived in this town my whole life. It's a small place, people talk, everyone knows everyone else's business."

"Well, do you think John killed Logan Fell?"

"I was a young woman then, Miss Gilbert. I kept my nose to myself..." she fists her hand, which Damon notices immediately.

"I see..." she turns to Damon for a moment. "Well, Damon's correct, we'd like to see if something important maybe have gone unnoticed at the time. The circumstances of the murder, quick trial and even quicker hanging lead me to believe that everything wasn't so cut and dried. My Grandmother doesn't believe John killed anyone."

"Of course not, most families don't want to believe they raised a killer, I am rather surprised that after all these years...," Sheila looks at Damon then her eyes drift to Elena.

"Can you help us?" Elena interrupts, keeping her stare on Sheila.

"You okay with this Damon?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can retract your claws now Sheila, I want to know the truth too."

"Okay then," she beckons them to follow her into the backroom where she slides a chair in front of the computer, runs her fingers along the keyboard, makes a few clicks then gets up and gestures for Elena to sit.

"I'll be in the front, let me know if you need more," Sheila backs out and when Elena looks up, she meets her eyes just before she disappears around the corner. The woman is an enigma - not like that of books where words are so plainly written out and flow from page to page, but of books torn, frayed, and indecipherable. Elena can't shake the feeling that the woman is being tight-lipped for a reason.

Damon pulls up a chair beside her and together they peruse local accounts of the murder. "It says that John's wife Isobel went missing after that night. My grandmother said that she vanished. Could she have killed Logan, framed John and made herself scarce? Perhaps she took on another identity?" Elena asks, a puzzled look on her face.

"Anything's possible. Speaking of, I need to get that gun and bullet to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation for ballistics testing. We'll know more when we find out if they're a match or not. When we get back to my office, we'll see if there are any old missing person's reports filed on Isobel Anders."

"Thank you Damon, for everything," she smiles at him.

"You're welcome," he returns the gesture.

Just as he's about to open another paper, his phone rings. "It's Vicky, I have to run. Just let Sheila know when you're done," he gets up and hurries away.

She starts reading some more. When her eyes start to feel tired, she hears a creek. Looking over her shoulders, she sees no one. Sighing, she lays her chin in her hand and turns her eyes back to the monitor. She can't shake the feeling that she's being watched...

* * *

_Tremendous thanks to all of you. You're the very best of the DE fandom, there's no arguing that point. _

_Thank you Eva. You're the best._

_'Deliverance' is a 1972 movie starring Burt Reynolds, Jon Voight and Ned Beatty._

_If you want teases about upcoming stories, I do post them on the scarlett2112 facebook page. Address in my profile. _

_Chapter title: 'I Can Help' by Billy Swan._

_Have a terrific day and a wonderful week. We'll see you next time with chapter four._


	4. Clash of the Titans

Scrolling through every article available, Elena isn't surprised that they just stop only days after John's hanging. Frustrated because there really isn't much to go on, she does notice a short write up that John's wife vanished around the same time as the murder. She digs a little deeper, typing in Isobel Ander's name but nothing comes up that isn't related to the murder. If only she knew her maiden name...

Determined, she slides back her chair and gets up, seeking out Sheila.

"Can I help you?" the older woman asks before Elena even opens her mouth.

"Do you know the maiden name of John's wife? I'm trying to see if anything comes up on her?"

"Fleming."

"Thank you," Elena ducks out and goes back to the small room, this time she types in Isobel Fleming. Apparently she was the lead cheerleader in high school, Elena finds mundane references to her but nothing really newsworthy. Sighing, she prints a few things and picks up her bag to leave.

"Done?" Sheila remarks, her eyes snapping to meet Elena's.

"I am. Thank you for you help today. I'm just going to see if I can find Damon," she points towards the door. "It was nice meeting you."

Sheila nods and watches till she sees Elena pass the window. Getting up, she does a little searching of her own, looking up pictures of the Anders family at Ellijay events. She wonders why Margaret Anders wants to throw a

fly in the ointment after all these years? Picking up the phone, she waits for the other person to pick up.

As soon as she hears the click, she simply says, "She just left...," and hangs up.

* * *

Walking down the sidewalk, Elena looks in some of the windows, the quaint little shops. She notices her rental car parked in front of the police station and realizes she needs to get back to her motel so she can get a change of clothes, pick up her things and maybe rent a room here.

Just as she lays her hand on the door handle, it swings open. Vicky steps back to let her enter. "Miss Gilbert?"

"Please call me Elena. Is Damon back yet?"

"He's in his office, just knock first," she cautions and then goes back to her desk.

"Thanks," she nods and raps on his door.

"Come in," sounds from behind it. Damon looks up, a smile forming on his face when he sees who it is.

"Any luck?"

"No not really, Sheila told me Isobel's maiden name and I thought maybe I could find hits on that name but nearly every one that came up is the traditional spelling of Isabelle. Of course, she could have changed that if she's still alive. I'm going to try to dig a little deeper."

"Good idea. I thought maybe we could go to see Judge Lockwood too?"

"Will he talk to us?"

"I think he'll see us whether he'll tell us anything is anyone's guess. I hope he will. However, he's a tough cookie, obsessed with his own importance and likes to intimidate people, he won't just admit to his own mistake."

Elena gives it a thought. "Okay... Listen, I see my rental outside. I'm going to drive back to Blue Ridge to get my things. Can you recommend a motel here in town?"

"You can stay with me if you want?"

"I don't want to impose Damon. You've already gone out of your way to help..."

"You're not imposing. It's settled, go get your things," he stands up and pulls a key out of his pocket. "When you return, we'll go to talk to Judge Lockwood."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure," he walks around his desk, grabs her keys from the holder, follows her outside and opens the door.

"I'll see you later," she slides in, their fingers touching when she does. Her breath hitches in her chest and she wonders if he feels it too? He pushes the door shut and leans in through the open window.

"Drive carefully," he cautions and steps away, waving as she backs up and drives off. He wonders if she feels the same inexplicable pull that he does?

* * *

Elena's silver gray rental cruises down the highway, travelling northeast. She's sitting in the front passenger seat with so much soft leather around her that she can barely hear the 389 horsepower, 6-liter engine... Glancing down at the speedometer, she slows down when she sees she's doing eighty mph again. But it's hard to keep her foot light when she feels the power of the car.

As the car engine sings to the highway, Elena relishes the breeze that twirls in her long brunette locks and whistles in her ears. Under the sunshine every hue is kissed into brilliance, art there for the seeing, for the willingness to pause and be with it in the moment. The countryside is beautiful and before long, she reaches the Blue Ridge city limits, pumps the break till she slows down to the speed limit and leisurely drives through the town, turning it at her motel.

Plopping down on the bed, she stares at the ceiling for a few minutes then pulls her phone out of her pocket and calls home. "Hi daddy."

_"Elena, how's it going?" _

"A little frustrating, and I haven't really learned anything new. I got arrested for speeding."

_"Elena! How many times have I told you your lead foot is going to get you in trouble?" _

"Too many times to count," she laughs. "It's all good, the sheriff turned out to be a nice guy. He's actually helping me. How's grandma?" she changes the subject.

_"She's sleeping right now. I'll tell her you called." _

"Thanks dad, I'll let you go, I need to take a shower so I can go back to Ellijay. I'll talk to you soon."

_"Be careful and I love you." _

"I love you too, dad. Give grandma a hug for me," she hangs up and tosses her phone aside.

After stripping down, she slowly steps into the shower, letting it beat down over her head in steamy rivulets. Closing her eyes to the water as the heat soaks into her skin, she leans against the cool tiles and relaxes under the water as it cascades down her body, massaging her muscles. Soaping up a sponge, she runs it under her arms, down her legs, under her breasts and finally between her legs. An image of Damon appears in her mind. Dropping the sponge, she turns the hot water up a little and washes her hair. She suspects he doesn't have a girlfriend because if he did, he certainly wouldn't have invited her to stay in his spare room? If a boyfriend of hers pulled such a thing, he wouldn't remain her boyfriend long. Shrugging off such thoughts, she finishes her hair, rinses the suds away and turns the water spigots off.

Reaching for a towel, she wraps it around herself and then combs through her hair. She puts a little makeup on, just a little blush, mascara and a spritz of perfume. After putting on some clothes, a pair of jeans and a flowy top, she packs her things and takes them out to her car. Before she leaves, she runs over to the office to settle her bill and turn in the key. Once that's done, she's quickly back on the road to return to Ellijay, her fingers anxiously tapping on the steering wheel at the prospect of meeting the judge.

* * *

After dropping off her things at Damon's place with the key he gave her, she opts to walk back to police headquarters instead of driving, she could use the exercise. Walking briskly, she breathes in the fresh, fragrant air of the blooming flowers and the green trees. Could she live in a small town like this? Would it satisfy her? Honestly she doesn't know, she likes the city but she also likes the peace and quiet the small town offers.

Turning right when she reaches Main Street, she picks up her pace a little but stops to take a whiff of some rose bushes that she passes. A few minutes later, she trots the last few steps and goes inside the station.

"You're back?" Damon turns around with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Here's your key, I dropped my things off."

"Keep it for now, you might need it. Um, are you hungry, we could go to the café down the street? Esther is a great cook, you had a taste of her burgers..."

"That sounds great and I am hungry," Elena rubs her belly playfully.

"Yeah, that," he laughs, opens the door and follows her outside. Together they walk down the sidewalk and across the street, going inside Esther's Grill when they reach the place. Urging her forward with his hand on her lower back, he leads her to a in across from her, Damon waves the woman over.

"Esther, this is my friend, Elena," he takes the menus from her.

"I'm Esther, pleased to meet you. Do you want something to drink while you decide?"

"Just cold water for me please," Elena responds, picking up the menu.

"The usual, Esther," thanks, he winks at her and she swats him with the towel she pulls from her waist. When he gives her a faux scandalous look, she rolls her eyes and goes to get their drinks. After she delivers them, they place their orders. Maybe 10 minutes later, Esther serves their food, plates brimming with French fries, condiments and their burgers.

"This is so good," Elena mumbles the same as she did the first time she had a bite of one of this cafe's burgers.

"Told you so," Damon winks, stuffing a few French fries in his mouth.

"Did you find anything on a missing person's report for Isobel?"

"Strangely enough, no," Damon takes a swallow of coffee.

"That's rather odd don't you think? I mean someone disappears without a trace and no one is concerned?" Elena drops the last piece of burger into her mouth.

"Maybe she didn't have any relatives? And let's not forget, she was an adult and able to make her own decisions."

"What if she was a runaway at one time? Would there be any record of it?"

"Elena, if she was, it was over 40 years ago. They didn't have records like we do now. There was no Center for Missing and Exploited Children back then, no national database."

"You're right, I didn't think of that," she smiles at Esther when she refills her water glass.

"Who wants the bill?"

"I do," Elena insists, taking it from her. "You've gone out of your way to help me, the least I can do is buy you lunch," she opens her wallet and pulls out some cash along with a tip then hands it to Esther.

"Well thank you," he wipes his mouth and stands up, following her out of the café. Since the Judge lives only a couple of blocks off Main street in a big old corner house, they walk rather than take Damon's squad car.

* * *

The mansion looms proudly behind creaky iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in green, swaying gently to the light summer breeze. At its threshold stands the delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonates in the surrounding silence. Ivy and ferns grow through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which leads directly to the colossal structure.

"Wow," Elena stares at the palatial estate. "How does a Judge afford this place?"

"His family is rich, they own half the county and more," Damon explains as they approach the front door. Raising his hand, he picks up the door knocker and uses it, slamming it against the plate. Soon the huge ornate door opens.

"Sheriff?"

"Mrs. Lockwood?"

"I gave Haley the day off if that's why you're looking at me so shocked," she eyes him pointedly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you."

"You didn't, how can I help you?"

"We're here, I mean me and this is Elena Gilbert, to see the judge."

"Gilbert? I don't think I know the name."

"She's not from around here. She's writing a book on the Fell murder."

"Oh," her voice turns colder. "Follow me," she leads them through the house to a huge study. When they enter, the first thing they see is a huge high-backed chair. It's so big that they can't see Judge Lockwood's head.

Slowly it spins and they find themselves face to face with the older man, a big cigar hanging between his fingers and a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. The smell of it makes Elena's lungs burn. Looking around, somehow the ostentatiousness of the room doesn't surprise her. There's a large portrait of the man in a robe with a gavel in his hand. She strongly suspects it's a younger version of the man. Turning back to him, Elena has to fight the urge to fan her face as residual cigar smoke hangs in the air, shifting like ghosts in the breeze.

"Richard, the sheriff and Miss Gilbert are here to have a word with you."

"Come on in," he remarks and turns to his wife, "Carol, would you mind getting us a brandy?"

"Oh no thank you, Mrs. Lockwood, I'm on duty," Damon interrupts.

"And you?" Carol asks.

"No, but thanks for the offer," she watches the woman walk away.

Elena considers the man, he's tall, thin, pale. A chill moves down her spine as she notices the way his eyes trail over her.

When the man says, "Have a seat," Damon nods, urging her forward with his palm against the small of her back. After they sit down, he takes a long pull on his cigar, blowing the smoke out, causing Elena to cough.

"Please explain why you're here..." he bids them arrogantly.

With Damon's warning, Elena can see they won't get anywhere being all respectable and polite. Before the sheriff can start, she takes a deep breath... "It's about the Logan Fell murder... Why did you pronounce him guilty after a sham trial?"

"Elena?" Damon's eyes widen at her accusation.

The man flies out of his chair before Elena can blink. Laying his palms on his desk top, he looms over her like a cobra ready to strike. "What right do you have to come into my home, 40 years after a murder and accuse me of impropriety?"

"My grandmother is Margaret Anders Gilbert. She told me what happened in the courtroom and how her brother wasn't given the opportunity to present a defense..."

"That's because he pled guilty."

"What?" she stands up, not willing to let him intimidate her.

"You heard me," he looks away when the door cracks and Carol returns with a brand snifter. He swirls it in the glass and then takes a long swallow.

"Then why was John hanged so quickly after the trial and what happened to Isobel?"

"That's the way we did things back then and how would I know what happened to his wife?"

"My grandmother said she slept around, do you know anything about that?"

Damon's jaw nearly hits the floor at her audacity. He stands up when he sees the Judge's face redden in anger.

"Get out," he bellows, storms over to the door, opens it and points them out.

"You haven't seen the last of me," Elena retorts and marches out with her head held high. Damon thanks him for seeing them but doesn't apologize for her. He's kind of amazed by the fact that she has more balls than half the men in this town who cower in front of the old man.

"You got a rise out of him," he laughs when he catches up to her outside.

"I hope I didn't get you in trouble," she looks back at the house and notices the Judge step away from the curtain. "It's hard for me to shed my reporter's instincts."

"Nah, it's all good, he's more of a figurehead in this town than anything else," he explains as they step outside the property and head down the sidewalk to go back to the police station. As they walk into the square, Elena points to the little park like area.

"You want to have a look?" he asks, playfully quirking his brows.

Momentarily mesmerized, she can't escape the pull of his eyes. They're blue like the sea, crystal clear blue- shimmering, crashing and churning.

"Elena?"

"Sorry," she laughs and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "It is pretty here, the whole town is quaint."

Shaking herself out of it, her mind goes back to the fiery encounter at the Lockwood home. She could use a few minutes for the burst of adrenaline to wane and leave her body. Does the Judge know something? Or was it just pride and bluster that made him throw them out of his house? Elena's about two steps in front of Damon when they start to cross the street.

Neither of them sees the Jeep careening around the corner.

A cacophony of sounds hit Elena's ears like a tidal wave. In shock, she stands frozen, eyes wide and directly in the path of the speeding car.

* * *

_Sorry it's later today. Hectic night at the hospital. You can be having a fairly good night, busy but manageable and then we get a busy patient, it can all go to hell in a handbasket as the saying goes. I was exhausted when I got home this morning. _

_Huge thanks to every one of your for the reviews, follows, favorites, kind words. They mean the world to us. _

_Lots of love and thanks to you, Eva. _

_Have a safe and wonderful day, thanks you all again and we'll see you next time. _


	5. The Riddle

_Elena freezes as the car bears down on her._

She can feel Damon's hand grabbing her forearm, ready to pull her out of the way. Whether he'd be able to save her is questionable and she closes her eyes in horror when suddenly tires squeal as the vehicle swerves, barely missing her. The man slams on the breaks, jumps out of the car and runs over to where Damon is holding a trembling Elena.

"Oh my God. I'm so, so sorry," he takes his baseball cap off of his head and runs his fingers through his hair, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other. "I was reaching for my phone, when I looked up, you were right in front of me," he explains frantically, his voice high pitched and anxious. His arthritic hands crooked and shaking too.

"Jesus Christ, Trevor, you almost ran her over," Damon curses, and looks down at Elena. "Are you okay?"

"I think so, if I can pick my gut up off the ground," she mentions, wiping the beads of sweat off of her brow. Her heart is thrumming chaotically, making her feel a little lightheaded.

"It was an accident," he starts, his eyes darting from Elena to Damon.

"Elena, this is Trevor Wolloe, and coincidentally, he was actually a deputy at the time of the Fell murder," Damon adds, arching an eyebrow at the older man.

"Really?" Elena asks, her stomach still churning from her near miss.

"Yeah, I...," he stumbles on the words, putting his baseball cap back on his head.

"Trevor, let's go inside the station, I'll get you a cup of coffee, you're still a little shaken yourself," Damon walks beside the older man in case he stumbles or something while hanging onto Elena's hand with the other. He leads him into his office, telling them both to sit.

Moments later he returns, handing Elena a bottle of water and a cup of coffee for Trevor. "I could use something stronger," he utters and takes a swallow. Damon opens the bottom drawer of his desk, pulls out a bottle of bourbon and a couple of Styrofoam cups. He pours a little in each, handing one to Trevor and offers one to Elena who shakes her head no. He screws the lid back on, returns it to the drawer and pushes it closed.

"It's nothing that you don't already know," he starts hesitantly. "John was in Candletop, when he got back, Logan told him that Isobel was sleeping around with Seth Amos and himself. John laid him out and then left. The next thing, I was in the car with Sheriff Parker when we heard a shot, we found John waving a gun."

"But why was everything so hurried, my grandma said it was a make believe trial and they hanged him right afterwards?"

"Your grandma?"

"Margaret Gilbert, John was her brother..."

"You're Maggie's granddaughter?" he asks, throwing back the bourbon Damon gave him. His foot starts tapping rhythmically against the floor.

"Yes, I am," Elena confirms, her eyes drifting to Damon.

"I remember the Anders kids, Maggie, John and Katie. They were always real close," he drops his eyes to his empty glass.

"They must have been about your age?" Elena mentions, swallowing what's left in her water bottle.

"Yeah, we went to school together. That was a long time ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get home to Rose," he jumps up and throws the cup in the wastebasket.

"No one seems to know what happened to John's wife Isobel... Do you have any thoughts about that?" Elena asks, rubbing her clammy hands on her jeans.

"Isobel?" his eyes dart from Elena's to Damon's.

"Yeah, it's like she vanished into thin air," Damon adds.

"I don't know anything about her. She wasn't at the trial neither. I really need to get home. I'm sorry about nearly running you down."

"That means you'll leave the phone lay till you stop the car after this right?"

He looks sheepishly at Damon and nods.

"Why don't I take you home Trevor? You're still pretty shook up," Damon offers, grabbing the keys off his desktop.

"I can drive, sheriff," he protests.

"Oh I know you can but not today," he waits for Trevor to get up and then follows him. Pausing at the door, he looks over his shoulder at Elena. "I'll be back in a bit, wait here for me."

"Sure," Elena agrees. When he's gone, she looks out the window as he's backing out. Her eyes meet Trevor's just before Damon steps on the gas and drives down the street.

* * *

Elena's in the boulevard park when Damon gets back. Seeing her there, sitting on one of the benches, he jogs over to her and takes a seat beside her.

"You okay? That was a close call."

"I'm still a little shaky," she holds up her trembling hands. Damon takes them, cupping between his two. Elena raises her eyes to meet his. "That helps."

"No problem," he smiles at her.

"Damon, is it just me or did Trevor seem a little cagey, I don't know, nervous?"

"Yeah, I noticed it too but in all fairness, he almost committed vehicular manslaughter. That would shake anybody up."

"I suppose, but it was especially when I asked about Isobel? Don't you find it odd that no one knows anything about her?"

"That was a long time ago, Elena. Not that many people are still around, only the Judge and Trevor, Sheila, maybe a couple others but that's about it."

"That may be, Damon, but no one vanishes into thin air. It's like she ceased to exist..." a lightbulb goes off in her head. "When was the last time she was seen alive, does anyone know?"

"We can look in the file tomorrow but now let's get you home. You can take a nice bubble bath, relax and I'll make you supper. Deal?"

"But Damon, what if she's dead too?"

"Well if she is, there's nothing you can do about it today anymore. Come on," he stands and pulls her up with him. Opening the car door, he lets her in, skirts the hood and drives her back to his place. Once he gives her some towels and a washcloth, a pair of his sister's shorts and a tee shirt, he leaves her to run to the grocery store to get something to make for supper.

When he returns, he finds her curled up on his couch, sound asleep with a file laying on her chest and Callie spread out by her feet. Creeping over to her, he lifts the throw from his rocker, covers her up then retreats to the kitchen to make their meal. When he finishes with the salad, he prepares the corn on the cob and the steaks for the grill then goes outside to put them on the rack. When he's done, he goes inside to grab a bottle of beer, taking a long pull.

A smile erupts on his face when he feels a hand touch his back. Turning around, he looks at Elena. Her hair is in a messy bun, there's not a stich of makeup on her face and she's still the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"I did, there's something to be said about waning adrenaline," she laughs, taking the bottle from his hand and helping herself to a swallow. Hesitantly, she looks up at him when she hands it back. The swirls of emotion she sees make her gasp. Lust and desire. Before she can ponder about it further, he yanks her to him and covers her mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crash together, she feels like she is walking on air. It's magic, their connection. His mouth is so warm, the caress of his lips softer than she could have imagined and she opens her mouth with a soft low moan.

Her arms reach up and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant she pulls away and arches her chest into his broad one, hissing at the contact. When he kisses her again, she can feel the slight burn of beer with every push of his tongue against hers.

"Wow," she touches her lips wispily when they pull apart.

"Wow indeed," he licks his lips, wanting, needing more. He cups her cheeks and draws her mouth to his once more in an ardent kiss, the mouths sliding together like the smoothest silk. Suddenly he smells the distinct odor of food burning and jerks away to lift up the lid to the grill. Turning down the flame, he spears a steak and shows her the charred side.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I'm a good cook honestly, but you're quite the distraction," he winks.

"Don't waste it, I don't mind my steak a little burnt."

"You're sure?"

"I am, she sits down on his picnic table while Damon plates the food and joins her. Together they laugh and talk and enjoy the fine meal and the wonderful bottle of wine he bought to share it with her.

* * *

In the brilliant light of the June day, Damon hangs up the phone. He's spent most of the morning catching up on some reports and making some phone calls with sheriff's in nearby towns related to a series of car thefts. The sun streams in like a flamboyant guest, not waiting for an invitation. He thinks the window is what sold him on this particular office, it's like an arched doorway: low to the ground and reaching high to the ceiling. Perhaps sun-bleaching of the floors and couch should concern him, but it doesn't. He gets up to stretch his limbs a little bit and refill his coffee cup when a sweet voice puts a smile on his face.

"Good morning," he smiles and hands her a cup of coffee.

"Morning, I just wanted to check in with you. I'm going to go back to the newspaper office to talk to Sheila again. I was doing a little digging on my laptop but I couldn't find a thing on Isobel, any luck on your end?" Elena mentions, taking one of the chairs seated in front of Damon's desk. Sighing, she picks up a piece of paper and fans herself.

"I talked to a friend of mine, Sheriff Saltzman over in Dalton. No one knows anything about an Isobel Fleming or an Isobel Anders. It's like she had no existence before she arrived here and after the murder. Unless of course, she changed her name?" Damon tells her matter of factly.

"Why would she change her name unless she felt threatened too? Grandma said she was a cheater, could she have killed Logan and pinned it on John? Another thing that puzzles me is the judge saying that John pled guilty, why would he do that?" she reaches for the paper to fan herself again. "I don't know, maybe he was still in love with her even after everything and wanted to protect her?"

"I can't answer that, Elena. If Isobel was cheating on him, I can't imagine he'd want to protect her?" Damon takes a drink from his mug.

"Exactly, I can't wrap my head around his mindset either, it just doesn't make sense. I'm going to try to call my grandmother too. She never mentioned that he pled guilty to the charges," she runs her fingers through her hair in frustration.

Reaching across the table, Damon takes her hand. "Don't lose hope, we'll figure it out."

"From your mouth to God's ears," she slumps in her chair.

"Trust me, we'll get to the bottom of this."

"I do trust you Damon, you've gone above and beyond to try to help a stranger."

"Don't make it more than it is, Elena. I want to help you. The case has been a stain on this town for much too long..."

Elena smiles, her eyes dropping to their still joined hands before lifting them to stare into Damon's endlessly deep blue ones.

"Not to change the subject but do you want to meet at Esther's place for lunch after you talk to Sheila?"

"I would like that. I can't shake the feeling that Isobel is the key to all of this," she blows out a frustrated puff of air. Standing up, she walks around to his side of the desk, leaning her bottom against the edge.

"I'll think of a way for you to pay me back," he winks and tickles her knee cap. Elena erupts in laughter and jerks her leg away. Just as she leans forward to give him a quick kiss, his phone rings.

Recognizing the number, he mock pouts, "I have to take this."

"I'm going to go to the Times-Courier office then. See ya later," she smiles and disappears through his office door.

He smiles watching her sashay away and then presses the button to speak.

* * *

Elena stops in the little boulevard park, sitting down on one of the benches, she pulls her phone out of her purse and presses the phone icon beside the willow tree icon she uses for her grandmother. It rings once. Twice. Three times before she hears the familiar voice.

_"Hello Elena." _

"Hi Grandma, how are you feeling?" Elena grips the edge of the bench.

_"It's a good day. Your father's going to take me to the doctor this afternoon for my check up. Have you found anything?" _

"Just more questions," she acknowledges, picking at some cat hairs that are stuck to her shorts.

_"Explain." _

"I talked to Judge Lockwood and he kicked us out of his house."

_"Who's us?" _

"The current sheriff, his name is Damon Salvatore, nice guy. He's been helping me."

_"I remember the name. Giuseppe, probably his grandfather was a local farmer, the family owned a big orchard."_

"I'll ask him about it..." Elena makes a mental note.

_"What else have you learned?"_

"No one knows what became of Isobel. It seems she just literally vanished into thin air. There's no record of her anywhere, it's like she didn't exist."

_"Oh she existed alright, that raven haired slut might as well have killed John herself. He died because of her whoring around." _

"Grandma!? Language," Elena chides, astonished to hear those words coming from her staid and proper grandmother.

_"I'm a lot older than you, Elena. I'll use whatever language I please." _

"I'm sorry, it's just that I never heard you talk this way," she explains.

_"I'm sorry too, I just want my brother's name cleared. I know you're doing the best you can with the limited information you have." _

"I did talk to a Trevor Wolloe, do you recognize that name?"

_"I haven't heard that name in years either. We went to high school together but he was a couple years older. He was... a deputy at that time of Logan's murder." _

"That's what he said," Elena ponders her answer. Why does she get the feeling her grandma was going to say something else? "Is there anything else you can think of, anyone else who might still be around here that I could talk to?"

_"I'm surprised Judge Lockwood is still alive. I don't know if Sheriff Parker is?" _

"What about Sheila Bennett? I talked to her, she's rather tight-lipped."

_"Sheila? I'd forgotten about her. I'll tell you one thing, that woman is astute. If anyone knows anything, it's her. We were friends once but we lost touch when I married your grandfather and moved away."_

"I'm on my way to talk to her again now. I'll let you know if I learn anything new."

_"Goodbye Elena," _she hangs up_. _

Elena shakes her head and tosses the phone in her bag. She sits for several minutes to process the conversation then pulls a notebook out of her purse to make a few notes. When she finishes, she puts it away and stands up, brushing the dust off of her shorts. Walking to the edge of the road, she looks left to right before crossing the road, feeling a little bit of a chill at yesterday's near miss.

She blows down the sidewalk like a fresh breeze. With each stride her mind becomes more clear, more resolute. The sunlight caresses her skin and she inhales to take in a deep breath of fresh air. Soon she finds herself in front of the Times-Courier office, a sign with its apple logo, the letters T C inside hangs above the door. A bell rings when she pushes it open, alerting Sheila to her presence.

"It's you again!?" she quickly sets her phone down and turns her attention to Elena.

_Weird, she looks angry or maybe just.. nervous. _

"How can I help you?" Sheila briskly gets up and starts to pick at things on the table.

Elena gives her a searching look, but rather than confront her, she explains her presence. "I came to ask you a few more questions, would you mind?" The woman is respect embodied, Elena feels like a small child under her scrutiny.

"I saw the incident with Trevor yesterday," Sheila says unexpectedly. "I was standing at the window. He's usually a level headed driver."

"Good to know, I'd hate for anyone else to almost get run down," Elena retorts, a little curious why Sheila would bring that up but she has a feeling asking would be inappropriate. Instead, she opts to change the topic, setting it aside for later. "Do you know of anyone in this town who might know something, anything about Isobel, John's wife? Did she have any friends, men or women? What did she like to do, did she socialize? I mean other than cheating on John?"

"No one's seen or heard from Isobel in 40 years. What makes you think you'll find her?" she crosses her arms over her chest to stop her slight nervous tremors.

"I don't know if I'll find her, I suspect I won't but I'm trying to solve a murder because I don't believe John Anders was guilty of anything."

"Isobel wasn't a good person, trust me," she says firmly.

_"Wasn't?" _the question leaves Elena's lips before she can think about it. Her heart's beating louder and she can hear it pounding in her ears. She needs to talk to Damon. Throwing her handbag over her shoulder, she moves towards the door but stops in her tracks when she hears the older woman's voice again.

"I don't understand why you would come here, on Maggie's behalf to dig into this old case, stirring the pot all over again. She and her sister had decades to look..."

In a glaring moment of silence Elena realizes there's one more surviving witness she has yet to interview.

* * *

_Here's a little peek at 'Endless Summer Nights': A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair off her shoulders and blows snow in her eyes. She looks up at the sky. It's a somber gray save for a band of salmon pink that hovers over the mountains. __The dusky grey peaks give the bottom a jagged edge whereas the clouds above soothe it with charcoal swirls. Feeling a chill, she pulls her coat tighter around her neck. She takes a step along the bumpy dirt path that leads to his house and suddenly wonders if he knows she's there. __She used to be able to tell when he was close by - an almost imperceptible shift in the air, a slight tingle running down her spine - but eight years have gone by and there is none of that now. #Coming soon... The cover image is posted on my facebook page. The address is in my profile if you're interested. _

* * *

_Thank you all for the wonderful response to this story so far. The DE fandom is the best there is. We're really so happy to be a small part of it._

_Thank you Eva. Love you._

_Chapter title: 'The Riddle' by Five for Fighting._

_I hope you all have a lovely day. Thank again so much for your amazing support. We'll see you next time._


	6. When We Grow Up

"You want to visit Katherine? Your great aunt? Do you even know where she lives?" Damon asks incredulously.

"Yeah, somewhere in Massachusetts, the Boston area I think. What the hell is the name? It's like the condiment," she spits out in frustration because she can't quite put her finger on it.

"Worcester?" Damon suggests.

"That's it!"

"You're welcome," he laughs, reaching into his refrigerator for a bottle of water.

"It's a little more than a one horse town like this," Elena teases.

"Insulting my town gets you... what exactly?"

Where did this playfulness and banter between them come from? Maybe it's their body's defense mechanism to deal with such things? Elena left the newspaper office feeling rather shaken, explaining to Damon that she isn't really sure what happened there. She informed him that both Sheila and Trevor mentioned Katherine or Katie and that she wants to talk to her too. It shouldn't be surprising really, she's a family member, one who might know something? If this was an official investigation, he'd want to talk to her too. Still he has a feeling that they haven't really been in touch for a long time.

"I have to ask my grandma if she knows her address, I don't even remember her..."

"Okay, you find out if she knows and I'll find out if I can take a few days off. If I ask nicely, I'm sure Vicky will feed and water Callie, she's done it before."

"You'll go with me?" Elena's eyes widen, completely surprised by his generous offer.

"I will, I have a vested interest in this case now too..."

_Surely she doesn't think he'll let her slip through his fingers now that he found her._

"Come on," he gives her a wink and picks up his phone to arrange some time off.

* * *

"Good news. Vicky's brother Matt can fill in for me for a few days. He's deputized, helps me out from time to time," Damon returns to the office carrying a bunch of what looks like hand picked flowers.

"How fortunate for you," her eyes drift to his hand. "Pretty flowers."

"I thought maybe you'd want to pay a visit to John's grave before we leave?" Damon mentions, handing them to her.

"Oh my God, I'm ashamed of myself for not even thinking of it. This is really thoughtful of you, Damon, thank you."

"You're welcome, come on," he urges her outside and into the car. They drive a short distance out of town, pulling over when they arrive. Stones are scattered on a hill. It's a solemn place, well kept, the grass is freshly cut. Some stones have faces carved into them, others have candle jars. At the top of a hill, under a big tree stands a marker with the words: _John Thomas Anders. Beloved Son and Brother_.

Stooping down, she lays the bouquet down and closes her eyes. Touching the words, she silently promises that she'll do everything she can to clear his name. Damon is standing nearby, his head down.

"What stands out to me is that it doesn't mention that he was a husband."

"You told me that your grandma has a lot of vitriol for Isobel, so I suspect their parents did too. They probably wanted no reminders of her?"

"I suppose," Elena closes her eyes once more and then gets up, taking the hand Damon offers. As they walk amongst the stones on the way back to the car, a small tombstone catches Elena's eye. It's half the size of the others and almost overtaken with grass. From the weathering she surmises that it must be old. She bends down to clear the plants away and when the inscription is revealed she freezes. The carving is crude, as if done by a family member rather than a professional. There was no date or name or message. There's just one word, "baby." All the way home she wonders what story could have lead to such an obscure grave?

* * *

Elena feels unsettled. Her grandma gave her the address but she still has a strange feeling there's something missing with the picture. And that her grandma is not as unaware as she lets on. Why hasn't she kept up with her sister over the years? What could have caused a rift if there is one? John's tragedy should have cemented them together as a family but instead...?

_Now she's even becoming suspicious about her grandmother?_

She's ready to leave, her things are packed, Damon called saying he's finishing up at the office and he'll be ready in a half hour. Hearing a car drive up, she grabs her bag to go outside but when she looks up, she's more than a little surprised that it's not Damon in the driveway. _Trevor?_

"Mr. Wolloe?"

The old man doesn't take his eyes of her while he gets out of the car and comes closer, if she's not mistaken, his eyes are misty, moist in the corners.

She doesn't understand.

"I'm sorry Miss Gilbert, I saw your rental car in front of the house. And I thought I should apologize one more time for the almost accident. I couldn't live with myself if I... "

"It's alright," Elena feels kind of relief that there's an actual reason for him being here. "I guess we were both lucky. Not a scratch, see?"

"You look so much like her..."

She can hardly keep up with his train of thought. "Oh, you mean my grandmother! Sheila said something about that too."

"No, not Maggie."

Before she can ask who he meant, he's already climbing in his car and leaves without another look in her direction.

* * *

Staring out the plane window, Elena's nerves are on fire. Their plane is scheduled to land at Boston's Logan International Airport in about an hour. From there they'll rent a car and drive the forty seven miles to Worcester. Her grandmother provided her with the street address to her sister's home. The fact that she knows Katherine's address makes Elena question their estrangement even more. She obviously kept tabs on her sister. It's all such a conundrum.

Her belly is roiling so much so that she can feel the bile burn the back of her throat. It scares her to think that Katherine may turn them away. She looks to her left when she feels Damon lacing their fingers together.

"Thanks for coming, Damon. Your support means a lot to me," she smiles, and leans her head against his shoulder. "I just hope she'll agree to see us."

"We'll have our answer soon enough," he adds, using his head to gesture to the buckle seatbelts light that just lit up. Elena feels her heart start to pound, pumping her blood at a furious pace with each beat. The roar in her ears is almost deafening. With clammy hands, she lets go of Damon's and fastens it. Turning her head to look out of the window, she watches as the ground gets closer and closer till finally she feels the jolt when the plane's wheels hit the runway.

When it pulls into the gate and comes to a complete stop, Elena and Damon take their turn to step into the aisle to exit. As soon as he pulls their bags from the storage container, they walk out and head directly to the car rental area choosing a four wheel drive. Setting the coordinates of Worcester into the car's GPS system, Damon pulls out of the airport and follows the street signs till they see an exit for the city.

Traffic is heavy and as a result, it seems to take forever till they reach their exit and pull into the town. After securing a motel room, they drive to the address. It's dusk but there are no lights on in the house so Elena wonders if anyone's even at home or if they're gone, perhaps a vacation or something?

After circling the block a couple of times, Damon drives back to the motel room and parks the car. He walks around and opens the door for her. As soon as she's out, he locks it, throws an arm around her shoulders, pulls her close to his body and takes her into their room.

Elena keeps her gaze on him, steady and unwavering.

Without warning, he takes her by the waist and tugs her against him. Their bodies are hot everywhere they touch, and he seals his mouth over hers. He kisses her, slow and deep, hot and hard, like he'd just returned from war and this is his first opportunity to touch her again. She trembles in his arms, clinging to him like she never wants to let go, moving restlessly and eagerly against him.

He cups her face, his thumbs stroking along her cheeks, and her eyes flutter closed as her breath catches in her throat.

"Damon," she whispers.

She can feel his breath on her lips, his body pressed tightly to hers. Her chin trembles as she reaches up to stroke his cheek, and before she knows what's happening, she's stretching up on her toes, pressing her mouth to his, as gently and softly as she can manage. He barely kisses her at first, allowing her to move against him as he holds her. She pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling until she tastes something else entirely.

Like magic, he comes alive.

His tongue sweeps into her mouth, so bold and sure, and he tugs her against him even more tightly, so her feet leave the ground. Through her light top, she can feel every warm, hard inch of his body, and she hears herself groaning, the reality of it both foreign and familiar. He starts to stagger backward, and she has to brace her legs against his to keep from falling.

Somehow, even stumbling blindly, he makes it to one of the two beds, and collapses on it, bringing her down on top of him. Her hands slide against the soft cotton of his shirt and it's as if he's the only thing keeping her earthbound. Their mouths still move together, breathing in sync, and the taste of him is deliciously sweet. His hands roam over her possessively. It feels right and she grinds down against him, his erection nearly burning her even through his pants. His fingers are gentle as they cup her breast, though, leaving her whimpering pitifully against his lips.

When she feels his fingertips slide up, tenderly tracing over the spot where her heart pounds and her blood surges, it suddenly hits her. It's the same for him. Everywhere their bodies touch, even through layers of clothing, she feels blistering, greedy flames licking at her skin.

_Her feelings for this man._

This man who moves his mouth against hers so hungrily, it is as if he wants to devour her. His tongue strokes against hers, and he clutches her to him.

"You literally sped into my life, Elena... I hope we can explore what's between us."

They kiss again, with Elena stretching up so she can control the angle, the force of it. She can barely breathe, but she can't resist the taste of his mouth, the hot, wet tease of his tongue. Their hearts pound in unison every time they come near each other.

"I want to get to know you better too Damon, once this whole John affair is simply a memory."

"I'm hoping your great aunt will provide us with the piece or pieces of the puzzle we need to wrap this up," he rolls onto his back, pulling her close.

"Me too, me too," she mumbles, buries her face in his chest and closes her eyes, soon drifting off to sleep along with him.

* * *

Waking up in the same position they fell asleep, Elena and Damon take turns in the shower and after getting breakfast at a nearby diner, they once again drive to the old Victorian home, the address that her grandmother gave her.

On the way, she looks at a flyer she picked up at the restaurant. Worcester has a long and storied history. In 1775, Massachusetts Spy publisher Isaiah Thomas moved his radical newspaper out of British occupied Boston to Worcester. Thomas would continuously publish his paper throughout the American Revolutionary War. On July 14, 1776, Thomas performed the first public reading in Massachusetts of the Declaration of Independence from the porch of the Old South Church.

Pulling up to the house, Damon parks their rental car along the side of the road. Getting out, he skirts around the hood, taking Elena's hand as she gets out. The house is mammoth, an intricate, multi-faceted structure, almost like a jewel with a pointed roof perched on top. When they reach the door, Elena pushes the button and squeezes Damon's hand while they wait. Moments later it cracks open and a woman who looks to be about her father's pokes his head out.

"Can I help you?" she asks, his eyes taking in Elena's form, scanning her from head to toe.

Feeling a little unnerved by her stare, she clears her throat. "I hope so. My name is Elena Gilbert," she looks up at Damon for a moment. Feeling him squeeze her hand, she continues, "my grandmother is Margaret Anders-Gilbert. We came to speak to Katherine Pierce, my grandma's sister."

"I'm sorry for staring, it's just that you look..."

"Excuse me?" Elena replies, her eyes drifting to Damon's and back to the woman's.

"My name is Nadia, Katherine is my mother. Please come in," she offers Elena her hand, shaking it warmly once she and Damon step inside.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Nadia. I guess we're second cousins," she forces a smile.

"Yes, we are," she continues to stare at Elena.

"You're making me a little self conscious at how you're looking at me. Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. It's just... Can I ask what you need to speak to my mother about?"

"Nadia who is it?" comes from the room across the hall.

"I'll be right there, mother?" Nadia calls back.

"Please, it's very important that we talk to her," Elena insists, feeling Damon squeeze her hand.

"You didn't answer my question?"

"Nadia, send them in. I'm not deaf you know, I can hear that the girl wants to speak to me."

"Alright mother," she replies, opening the door for Elena and Damon to enter.

The room is light, the long drapes parted, letting the sun come in. Laying in a big four poster canopy bed is an older woman, long gray hair in a braid draped over her shoulder, reaching her lap. The woman in the bed looks much older than the age Elena knows her to be. Prongs are sticking in her nose and the whir of the oxygen concentrator breaks the silence.

"Come here," she curls her hand, encouraging Elena to come closer. With a slight nudge from Damon she does, taking a seat at the foot of the bed when Katherine points to it. "The reason my daughter is staring at you is this," she picks up a frame from the bedside stand and hands it to her. It's the three Anders siblings standing in front of a big pine tree, smiles on their faces. Elena recognizes her grandma but what stuns her the most is the young Katherine. She lets out a low gasp as she looks at her mirror image staring back at her.

"It's uncanny," Elena hands it to Damon who's standing close to her.

"It is. Your grandmother called me, said you were coming. I've been expecting you."

"You didn't mention that mother," Nadia interrupts, pouring the old woman some water when she starts to cough.

"I didn't want you to get your panties in a bunch," Katherine takes a long swallow.

"Maggie said you wanted to know about John. We were twins, he was born 10 minutes before me. For as long as I can remember, he and I were two parts of one whole. If he went away for a long time, summer camp, a weekend with daddy, I'd feel numb, empty and nothing would motivate me. The second he was beside me again, those feelings would vanish. We talked about our bond more than once. He swore to me that there'd always been something at the back of his head, a sort of whispering sound. He said that he always knew when I felt upset, angry or sad - even when I acted cool and nonchalant. I wasn't surprised by that because I felt the same feeling countless times... it's like a kind of connection, a thread linking us both together in the most beautiful, sophisticated way possible. It was strange but alluring nevertheless. There was something about both of us pulling the other's orbit and neither wanted that to be weakened, even when we had families of our own. We were each other's half and even in death, that remains the same.

"That's beautiful," Elena says softly.

"It was, I have the best memories of him," her voice trails off momentarily. "There's no sense keeping it secret anymore. You see I'm dying, my heart is failing rapidly. Nadia wants me to go on a transplant list but at my age, I don't want to take that opportunity away from a younger person who has a life ahead of them. I've lived mine and I'm ready."

"Keeping what secret?" Elena asks, laying her hand atop Damon's when she feels his on her shoulder.

"Is this your young man?"

"We're working on it," Damon answers for her, smiling down at Elena.

"Have a seat, I'll tell you a story."

Damon nods and sits behind Elena on the bed while Nadia pulls a chair up but hands her mother a pill before she sits herself. After swallowing it, Katherine sets the glass down, closes her eyes and starts to speak.

_John was working construction in Candletop. He had married Isobel a few months before, he was trying to earn enough money to buy her expensive things. She was wild but he thought he could tame her. Ellijay is a small town, people talk, things get around. I saw Seth Amos leaving their home one night, she was standing in the doorway with nothing on, waving goodbye to him. She didn't care who she gave a show to." _Katherine wrinkles her nose in disgust, deeply immersed in her memories.

_The night that John came home, Trevor called, the poor guy was in love with me. He said he overheard Logan telling him about Isobel, Seth and himself. He also mentioned that John was furious when he left and I knew he'd go looking for Isobel. But that's one body that'll never be found... _

Elena looks over her shoulder at Damon, her mouth slightly agape. "You killed Isobel?"

"I certainly did," she starts to cough and Nadia jumps up to rub her back.

"Mother, you don't have to continue."

"Yes, I do dear, it's time to free John," she squeezes her daughter's hand and nods.

_"After talking to Trevor, I took my gun and went after Logan. He was supposed to be John's friend and he slept with his wife. My daddy taught me how to shoot as soon as I was old enough to handle a weapon. I pointed it through a crack in the door and..._

_Little sister don't miss when she aims her gun..._

"John and I could never keep secrets from each other. He knew right away that I killed Logan, he pled guilty to save me. He made me promise that I'd never tell anyone. His sacrifice would've been for nothing if I had spoken the truth. I never even told Maggie, she's my sister and I love her but she couldn't understand the bond of twins you see? Maybe she didn't want to know, she married and moved to Virginia, I married and moved here, had my children, lived my life, just as he wanted me to. But there hasn't been one single day that I haven't missed my brother..."

Elena listens with rapt attention and Katherine takes her hand, pulling her out of the trance like state. "I'll be dead soon, I'm asking that you keep this to yourself until after I'm gone, for the sake of my children. Then you can do whatever you need to do to clear my brother's name."

"I'll do my best," she casts a quick glance at Damon. "Thank you for talking to us," Elena ends the conversation and stands up. Feeling a compelling urge to hug the woman, she does and closes her eyes when Katherine hugs her back, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

"It was nice meeting you, aunt Katherine."

_Has this woman ever been truly happy?_

"It's nice meeting you Elena Gilbert. I'm feeling awfully tired, Nadia will show you out."

Nodding, Elena takes Damon's hand and together they leave the house. Once they reach the car, Elena looks back at the big old house.

"That was some story," Damon remarks, following her gaze. He stares a minute before starting the car and pulling into traffic.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Damon glances over at her.

"Now we know... I thought I would feel excited if I could solve the murder, now murders but I don't, I just feel numb..."

_What is she going to tell her grandmother?_

_To be continued..._

* * *

_We don't know how to properly thank you all. We're constantly amazed, humbled and deeply grateful for your enthusiasm and support for this and our other stories. _

_Thank you Eva. You're the best writing partner ever. _

_Chapter title: 'When We Grow Up' by Diana Ross._

_Thank you to all of you. You're the best of the DE fandom. _

_Have a terrific day. We'll see you next time._


	7. Circle of Life

Elena's quiet when they reach their motel room. They could pack their things and leave right away but somehow Damon doesn't think they will.

She needs time to process.

Frankly, he could use some downtime as well.

"Take a nice hot bath, get some rest, I guess we're staying here?"

"Yeah, I guess," Elena responds absently, grabs a towel and disappears in the bathroom.

Damon reluctantly leaves but doesn't go far. On the way from Katherine's place, he saw a pizza joint. He decides to order some and pick it up himself while she's relaxing in the tub. He won't leave her alone for too long.

In less then twenty minutes he's back with a six pack of beer and a half and half pizza, half cheese since he doesn't know what she likes and half supreme. He's a little surprised seeing her already sitting on the bed, combing her long dark tresses, the scent of lavender from her shampoo flooding his senses. Staring at the beauty in front of him, it takes him several moments to realize that he hasn't moved an inch from the door.

She gives him a weary warm smile and he mentally breathes a sigh of relief. She's not going to shut him down.

"Great idea, I'm starving," she offers.

"Maybe I should have...," he sets the food and drinks down.

"No, it's perfect." She gets up and joins him at the table.

* * *

"He lied to me...," she starts the conversation after they'd shared their meal in silence. "Trevor, I mean. He came to see me, not to apologize. He wanted to see _Katherine _one more time."

Damon doesn't question it, he has his own suspicions about Trevor and what role he played in those bygone events. "I think that fact saved your life, too."

Her eyes shoot to his own. "You mean...?"

"Yes, I do. I think he knew about Katherine since the beginning. He helped to protect her but he also helped to hang her brother, no wonder she left at the first opportunity and never looked back. And he stayed, with his guilty conscience and then he learns there's someone digging into that old murder..."

"So he wanted to kill me...?"

Damon shakes his head, he can't get inside Trevor's head to know what he was thinking when he rushed his car against the dangerously curious journalist but is pretty sure her face was what made him jerk the wheel to avoid the collision. He was obviously shaken, it must have been like seeing a ghost.

"What are we going to do about... all of it?" he broaches what they both must be thinking about.

"Do we have to do it now?"

He doesn't blame her for wanting to avoid the subject for as long as she can. Hell, he'd prefer not to know either. But they do. And they can't just let it go... not now. Still, maybe they can give Katherine her last days with her daughter. Something's telling him she's spent decades in her own personal hell.

"Okay, what do you want to do now?"

"I just need you..."

* * *

"You're not going just simply shut up and kiss me, are you?" her tone is tired but she doesn't look offended.

"I'm... not sure it'd be wise, if that's what you're suggesting. I mean, if you want us to..." _Damn, where's the usual Salvatore swagger? _It's gone to hell since meeting her.

"I get it Damon, but I..."

"No, you don't. I what this, I want it more than anything but..., the last thing I want to do is take advantage and..."

"And _I_ can take advantage?"

He looks at her for a long moment, sighing in frustration. What he'd rather do right this very second is to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. And he wouldn't stop at just that...

She averts her eyes and he's afraid they lost their chance, _he _lost his chance but she moves closer to him and takes his hand in hers.

"Damon," she almost whispers and his breath hitches at the intensity of the moment. "I promise, I won't regret it in the morning. I want it just as much as you do, and it has nothing to do with Katherine and the mess we're in at the moment. It doesn't matter if we wait or not, I still want to explore what we can be. And if you say no, I won't be angry or hold it against you. You make me happy and I feel so many new and wonderful things, that's what should matter. This whole thing is depressing. I have no idea what to tell to my grandmother or what we should do about Katherine but I do know I don't want to waste anymore time because we never know when we'll run out of it. Make love to me and tomorrow, we'll face all of it together."

_That's some speech..._

He should probably tell her something reassuring, and heartfelt, she deserves no less but right now he's sure the time for speeches is over and he hungrily seeks her lips to show her how much he is in it too. His gaze is intense, hot as a flaming star, and she finds herself suddenly shivering under the weight of it.

Backing away slightly, his eyes never leave hers as he takes his time pulling his shirt tails from his waistband. He unbuttons the top button of his shirt, and then with slow alluring moves, he continues until it's hanging open, allowing brief glimpses of his well-defined chest and abs. Her hands ache to touch him, but instead she knots them in the bed covers. He removes his watch, and she hears the soft plunk as it hits the carpet. When he unbuttons his pants, she bites her lip. A moan escapes at the slow scrape of his zipper as he pulls it down. He takes a step closer and with a quick wiggle of his hips, they fall to the floor.

He moves to stand in front of her, naked except for a small smile on his lips, a dark glint in his eyes and a strong desire echoing her own.

Tangling one hand in her hair, he tips her head back, kissing her with more passion than she's ever experienced. She feels the straps of her dress gliding over her shoulders and then it's pooling at her feet. He steps back, his eyes darkening further, drinking her in.

He tilts her head to the side, granting his mouth full access to the creamy soft skin of her neck while he trails his lips down her throat. Kisses that make her blood run hot turn to gentle nips and she moans as her desire approaches the boiling point. She feels him smile against her skin. When he hold her skin with his teeth and sucks, her knees go weak.

She feels herself tightening at the erotic sensations his fingers are causing when he teases her nipples through the thin material of her bra. She wants to touch him, to stroke him, to love him. He pulls her closer with his arm, leaving his hand free to undo the hooks. As the straps slide off, she feels herself being lowered onto the bed.

He stands at the end of the bed gazing at her, "You are so beautiful." His voice is merely a whisper.

She reaches her hand out to him and he begins licking and kissing his way up her body. She rubs against him, her hands stroking his chest, lingering over his nipples. She squirms with anticipation when she feels a tease against her inner thigh.

He kisses the base of her neck before moving to her breasts. With his mouth is occupied, he trails his hand down across her stomach, brushes her hips, and then settles between her legs. Long, talented fingers stroke her wet folds while the wide pad of his thumb circles her swollen clit. When she raises her hips to pull his fingers in deeper, he removes them to give a quick pinch, igniting her body.

He kisses her as he slides them back in, this time increasing the depth and rhythm.

"Please…please…"

He answers by sliding down her body, spreading her legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders and lapping her tender flesh with his tongue. Shifting them a little more allows him to take the sensitive bundle of nerves between his teeth. A pleasurable scream leaves her mouth when waves of pure bliss explode throughout her body.

He lowers her hips and continues with quick smooth strokes to prolong her orgasm.

As her body slows to shudders, he enters her in one powerful thrust, drawing a gasp from her and a groan from him. Slow, smooth strokes soon become quicker, harder ones. He is so deep inside that she loses all conscious thought. Sensation takes over as she feels the delicious pressure of another orgasm building, her walls tightening around him. He responds by pounding into her, each drive pushing her closer to the edge. His motions are growing a little wilder and it's exhilarating.

She feels the pleasure-pain of it rip through her, causing her body to spasm. Damon lets go with a low, growling moan as he releases deep inside of her.

"Fuck, Elena," he wheezes, collapsing on top of her, and she can feel his heart pounding against hers as he tries to catch his breath. She fingers the short damp hairs at the back of his neck. Their sighs mingle with the night breezes that are coming in through the window of their motel room. Damon catches Elena's mouth with another kiss before he rolls to the side of her.

They lay naked in the moonlight, Damon's arm draped over her waist. Elena leans in for a kiss, the kind she wants to last forever, but after a time she withdraws to gaze at the man she's beginning to feel so much for.

Damon glides his hand over her skin to her face, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Have I ever told you that I'm crazy about you?"

"Uh uh," she shakes her head and grins.

Damon's hand migrates to her hair, pushing it back from her face. "Well, I am. And you know what?" Elena hears the words before he says them, folding her lips inwards. "I want more."

She drops her gaze before meeting his, there is an intensity to it, like his love is gasoline and she's his only flame.

* * *

Damon stirs behind his closed eyelids, his mind ceasing dream-mode to bring him back to wakefulness. A slow smile creeps over his face. He doesn't hear the drone of the ceiling fan, he hears rain falling thickly outside, the beautiful sound passing right through their slightly open window. He rolls to get up as his eyes open and takes himself to see it, already feeling the soothing breeze. There is the scent of wetness. Today will be a day for jeans, an umbrella, and strong black coffee.

Hearing the crack of a door, he turns around to see Elena coming out of the bathroom. He smiles at her tentatively, a little anxious about last night and if the spill of regret is coming. She puts her smattering of toiletries in their bag and then starts to brush her hair.

"Morning," she moves over to him, dropping a peck to his lips.

"Morning," he yawns, stretching his arms above his head. "I guess I'll jump into the shower too. It's wet outside."

"I love rainy days," she lifts her hair and puts it in a high ponytail.

Damon nods, grabs his jeans, a clean shirt and pulls the bathroom door closed behind him. He turns the water on and then steps in. The water pours down, it drips by his side, as his thoughts fade into dullness and everything is a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms his Elena thoughts. What if she does regret it? What if he never sees her again? Now that he's had a taste, how is he going to let go if that's what she wants? How will this work when he's perfectly content in Ellijay and she's a product of the big city? Exhaling heavily, he picks up the complementary- sized bottle of shampoo and pours some in his hair. Running his fingers through it, he works up the bubbles before moving back under the direct stream. The water drips down, massaging his muscles under the steady stream. As soon as the water bubbles dissipate, he turns off the spigot, steps out, dries off with a towel and quickly dresses.

Elena's sitting on the bed, her legs extended, flicking through the stations. "You ready to leave?" he asks, throwing his things into his bag and zipping it up.

"Yep, we have to turn in the car and I have to catch a flight to Norfolk."

"You want to go alone?"

"Yes. No, I mean no, I don't want to go alone but I've already taken up so much of your time."

"I'm here because I want to be, Elena. Besides, Matt's more than capable of taking care of things for a few days."

"If you're absolutely certain?"

"I am so stop worrying. Now what do you want to do when we get to Norfolk?"

"We can either have my dad pick us up or rent a vehicle to drive to Virginia Beach."

"It's probably easier if we're not dependent on them for transportation."

"I think so too. I don't know if we'll be in the mood to sightsee but it might be kind of nice to go to the beach?"

"Okay, I guess we'll rent one then," he pulls the motel key out of his wallet. "I'm going to go turn this in at the office. I'll be right back," he slips through the door and she watches his form as he goes past the window. Elena throws her legs over the bed, picks up their bags and goes to the car, putting them in the trunk before jumping into the passenger seat to avoid the rain.

"Over here, Damon," she cracks the door open, alerting him of her location.

"You ready," Damon hurries over and gets behind the wheel, taking the keys from her, he starts the ignition, backs out and pulls onto the road. Softly splashing water droplets hit the car windows as they drive to Logan International Airport. The skies are overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that she can barely tell the difference between the sky and clouds. Despite car rides feeling tedious, the rain commonly calms her - she watches raindrops race down the windows and truthfully she'd rather be outside in those puddles than stuck in this car.

His heart begins racing the moment the car pulls into the airport parking lot. The smell of jet fuel, automobile exhaust, and hot tarmac combine to assault the senses with images of exotic escapes and the kind of freedom that can only come from airports. After he and Elena check in at their gate, they sit down and wait to board their flight.

A couple behind them are chatting about the weather in Florida and the possibility of rain there too. He recognizes the smell of fading perfume that women are wearing. "You okay, Damon? You've been awfully quiet since we got up this morning?"

"I'm good," he forces a smile.

"Damon, I don't regret what happened between us. I want more too, trust me?" she encloses his hand between her two.

Raising his free one, he runs his thumb along her cheek bone and leans close to press a light kiss to her lips. "Are you sure?"

"I know what I signed up for, Damon and I'm all in," she starts but is interrupted by the boarding call.

_Flight 896 is now boarding at gate 11. _

"That's us," Damon stands up, picks up their bags and they get in line. As soon as they reach their row, he stuffs their things in the overhead bin and takes his seat beside her. The door of the aircraft closes and the plane starts to move towards the runway. Just short of it, the plane stops. They can faintly hear the rumbling noise of the aircraft engine. The aircraft starts to move again, this time with more speed. It keeps increasing and when it's in the middle of the runway, it starts to climb and is soon off the ground. In less than two hours, they'll be landing in Norfolk International Airport.

* * *

Having landed safely and rented another car, Damon, at Elena's direction, takes the highway that hugs the coastline. On one side of the road is a thick line of white gold sand. The shore is a graceful arc of sand, glittering under the summer sun, a place for a placid ocean to lap. The waves roll in with a soothing sound, the salty water a brief flurry of sand.

Elena's hand is resting on his lap, he glances over, smiling at her. "I forgot to tell you that my grandmother said she knew a Giuseppe Salvatore, and wondered if he's your grandfather?" Elena looks over at him.

"Actually, no. Giuseppe isn't my grandfather, he's my dad."

"Your dad?" Elena shifts in her seat to consider him more closely.

"Yep, he is. His first wife had an affair and left him to marry some guy named Julian. That's about all I know about it. I happened to overhear my parents talking about her one day so I asked him. He didn't have anything nice to say about her. He married my mom a few years later, she's 20 years younger than he is. Believe it or not, I've never seen them fight."

"That's amazing Damon," she starts to say when they come up to their turn. Damon makes a right and continues until Elena tells him to stop. His eyes practically pop out of his head. It's a spectacular oceanfront estate located on a double lot.

"You didn't tell me you were rich?" Damon parks the car and steps out.

"I'm not rich, Damon. My family is. I make a living selling free lance articles, I've also written a fiction book about the ghosts of Virginia Beach. I want to make it on my own without my dad or grandma paving the way for me. Come on," she smiles and takes his hand, leading him to the door. Elena takes a deep breath, opens it and walks inside with Damon behind her.

"Elena, you're home," Grayson approaches, embracing his daughter in a light hug.

"Hi daddy," she steps back. "This is Damon..."

"Grayson Gilbert, it's nice to meet you," he shakes the younger man's hand.

"Thank you sir," Damon nods.

"Damon is the Ellijay sheriff. His assistance has been invaluable... in many ways," Elena blushes slightly and takes his hand.

"I see," he chuckles and invites them into the living room where he pours them each a drink.

Elena looks at Damon when she feels him sit down, his leg brushing against hers. Finally the moment she's been dreading is here. Everything hinges on what her grandmother has to say. Her hands spread like a pale starfish around the tumbler and she takes a sip. "Daddy, is grandma awake? I really need to talk to her."

"I believe so. Why don't you go upstairs and I'll take your friend down to the water, if that's agreeable?" Grayson asks, his eyes seeking Damon's.

"Damon is that okay with you?"

"If that's what you want?"

"I think I should see her alone first," Elena's eyes from his to the staircase.

"Okay then," he sets his drink down and follows Grayson outside through the sliding glass doors that lead to the ocean behind them.

All the reasons not to do this come flooding in, as if her body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation. Elena feels the soft panic that can grow or fade depending on what she does next. It will fade if she backs away, but then she'd have to do this all again another time. It will grow if she lets these thoughts swirl into a vortex of stupidity. Sucking in a slow deep breath, she sets the glass down and goes upstairs till she reaches her grandma's room. Closing her eyes, she momentarily drops her chin to her chest while raising her fist to rap on the door at the same time.

"Come in" comes from the room.

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she takes a nibble then turns the knob and goes in. The older woman is sitting in a chair by the window, her dressing gown on, her hair in a braid much like Katherine's, a cup of something in her hand.

"Elena, you're back. Do you want some tea?"

"No, grandma," she takes the chair opposite her.

"I gather you learned something about John?" the older woman takes a swallow from the china teacup then sets it down, giving Elena her full attention.

Elena knows the tension is high, she should inject love instead of anger, offer an olive branch instead of enmity, but sometimes it just isn't that easy. She takes all the courage she has and uses it to try to suppress her angry impulses. "Grandma, I'm trying to understand and not to raise my voice but I think you knew exactly what I was going to find when you sent me to Georgia."

"I... had my suspicions yes," Margaret starts, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Why did you need me to confirm Katherine's role in all of this? Why not let it die with her?"

"Because I didn't know for sure, Elena. Yes, I always suspected Katie knew more than she let on but I had no proof. I wanted to keep my promise I just... didn't want to be right. Now when I'm sick and dying... I don't know what I thought, Elena. I think I was hoping that you would find that someone else did it and have John's name cleared."

Her voice loses its strength and she suddenly looks old and tired. The anger Elena feels vanishes in an instant.

"But his name can only be cleared at the expense of his twin sister, you know that right? He didn't want that, granny, he wanted her to live her life, that's why he pled guilty... to save her," she urges softly, hoping her grandma can bring some order into all of this, tell her this is just a story, a nightmare that won't have any impact on their lives and the way she sees the world, her family. As she always did.

_But what's done, can't be undone. They know now and have to deal with it._

"Elena, the two of them were like peas in a pod, as tight as two siblings could be. I was the older sister but I felt like an outsider, I hated the unbreakable bond they shared."

"Grandma?"

"Yes, I was jealous, if that's what you want to hear? But I did respect it, loved them both with all my heart until... it cost John his life, it was the only thing that made sense. I was his big sister, I was their big sister. I was supposed to protect them. Oh, how I hate the woman that ruined my family."

To her horror Elena realizes she doesn't know about Isobel. _She can't tell her..._ Even if she suspected that too, they can't get it in the open right now.

"You brother wanted to shield Katherine at all costs, so much so that he died for her," she says softly. "Whatever Katherine did, she didn't get away with it, trust me."

It's not a lie, she recalls the bitter dying woman haunted by the ghosts of the past.

"Do you really want me to write this story or not?" she asks when her grandma doesn't react.

"I don't know, Elena. I just don't know."

She turns her head to face to the wall and closes her eyes.

She won't say another word before Elena tip toes out of the room only a few moments later.

* * *

_There's still a little left to this story. _

_Huge thanks to all of you, you're the best and reason we continue to write Damon and Elena stories. It's not only that, we both love and miss them too. We have so many ideas, it's just hard to find the time to plan especially when Eva's 9 hours ahead of me. _

_Lots of love and thanks to you, Eva. You're always willing to take the leap and help write these stories._

_Chapter title: 'Circle of Life' from Disney's The Lion King._

_I did post the first chapter of Endless Summer Nights: Separated by a long ago tragedy, Elena unexpectedly stumbles onto Damon. If you don't get chapter 2 this week, it'll come next week._

_Have a fantastic day and thank you again so very much. We'll see you next time._


	8. Small Town

The following night passes in nightmarish fashion. Despite her dad's repeated reassurances that her grandma will be okay, Elena can't seem to make herself believe him. Unease blossoms from within her; as brilliantly as the fragrant rose she now holds with quivering hands. Is it her time, is death closing in on her?

Elena can only describe the dread as a slowly approaching train and like any good nightmare it doesn't matter where she runs because the locomotive just keeps on coming. Her fears aren't irrational, her grandma has been ill for some time.

Still this feeling is so foreign to her, she's never had a problem getting into stories even scarier than her family's... but that's what makes this different... It is _her family_, not some anonymous tipster that leads her to a sensational article.

She's grateful to have Damon sharing her room. This man is the sweetest melody on her eyes and ears. She can wrap herself up in his words and sleep more soundly than a baby. The attraction she feels is so deep, as if this were the start of a song that plays on and on, something incredibly soothing to her heart and soul. She's wishing on every rainbow, under skies of velvet clouds and acres of blue, that he is _the one. _

"Listen," he takes her hand and strokes the base of her thumb. "If your father says she's going to be alright, he probably knows what he's talking about."

"I know you're right but it's hard not to worry."

To ease her tension a little, he moves to change the topic. "I still can't believe he let me move into your room in _his _house," he adds because he can't help it.

"What? Why? Your parents wouldn't let you share your room with your girlfriend? At your age?"

"Well, in the first place I'd never... wait, is that what we are?" It's impossible, he knows, if anyone told him a week ago that he would be ecstatic over the prospect of being someone's boyfriend...

"I... don't know, what would you call it?" she squirms, an adorable shade of blush flooding her cheeks.

He brings her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her and kisses each. "I would very much like you to be my girlfriend, if you think I'm crazy then you're probably right. I am. About you."

They don't make love tonight, both of their thoughts are somewhere else and full of worries. And yet, they get to be with each other, ready to face whatever comes in the morning.

* * *

Daylight comes early, Elena wakes up with the first morning light, her heart starts beating loudly as everything comes back flooding into her conscious mind.

_She must check on her grandma._

She quickly slips out of bed carefully reaching for her night gown, attempting to be back before Damon wakes up.

"You're not going to sneak out and leave me alone in your own bed are you?"

Damon's looking at her calmly, a gentle smile playing on his lips tells her he's merely teasing, trying to ease her worries at least a little.

"I was just going to check on my grandma," she sighs, sitting on the bed next to him.

"You go," he squeezes her hand and gives it a _stubbly _kiss. "I'll be here if you need me."

She smiles gratefully and bends to give him a proper one. "Go back to sleep," she whispers and quickly leaves the room.

Damon stretches his limbs and sighs. _As if that is at all possible._

* * *

Elena peeps into Margaret's room, she looks soundly asleep. She smiles and silently starts to back out of the room. Before she can pull the door closed, her granny's voice stops her.

"Elena? Is that you? You can come in," she shifts, sitting up in bed.

Elena comes closer to sit in the armchair next to the bed, feeling rather guilty for disturbing her sleep. "I'm sorry granny, I was just concerned. Our conversation yesterday..."

"Was long overdue. I should have faced it earlier, I'm sorry I dropped it on you in the worst possible way."

"No, I am sorry, I... wish you had been candid with me from the beginning but I don't want to dwell on that. I'm just glad you have some color in your cheeks."

They share a tentative smile, but it's a start.

"I'm so glad you're alright, I had such a bad feeling, so much so that I couldn't sleep...," Elena tries to explain why she's in her room at this hour.

"Katherine died last night," Margaret drops another bomb, one Elena certainly wasn't expecting, although she probably should have. "Nadia called a little while ago."

"Wha... I'm so sorry, grandma..."

"Don't be. If anyone should, it's me, for wasting so much time worrying about it instead of facing it and reaching out to her. She had her regrets too, same as mine, Nadia told me. I guess I have to live with the knowledge we're just erring humans, mere mortals who don't always recognize what's right and what to do about it."

Elena's heart is breaking, for two sisters and a brother whose world had been destroyed and changed forever and nothing could have stopped it once the train of events was set in motion.

"What did you decide?" she asks unexpectedly and Elena feels she truly has a say in this.

"I'm not going to write an article, of course not. I'll do what I have to where the law's concerned but that will be it."

Her grandmother nods in agreement. "And then we can start healing..." Her voice is weak and Elena hopes she just needs some sleep.

"You look tired," she shares her concerns.

"I probably am, but don't worry, I am not giving up. Have too much to live for yet."

_Is there a hint of smile in her tone?_

"I heard," Margaret continues, "you brought a Salvatore home with you, one that slept in your room," she arches an eyebrow teasingly and Elena blushes. Taking her hand, the older woman winks at her. "The Salvatore men have always been lookers as far as I remember. I am looking forward to meeting this one."

* * *

_You have no idea, grandma..._

Elena's remembering the end of the conversation she had with her grandmother yesterday morning while scanning Damon's profile as he lowers the speed to enter the town. They're back in Elijay, tired and well aware of the troubles still ahead of them but somehow content.

_Why does it feel like coming home?_

The thought scares her, it's like waking up in an alternative universe.

"Do you mind if I stop at the station to catch up with everything? I promise it will just be a few minutes, then I'll drop you off at home even if Matt wants me to come back afterwards."

"I don't mind," Elena shakes her head and turns to look out the window at the little village that somehow has grown on her. Here it is, _home_...

Damon's heart jumps, whether it's from nervousness wondering what she's thinking or joy that it all feels so natural he's unsure. It's impossible how much they've already been through together, how close they grown within a few days. Pulling his car into a spot in front of the station, they get out of the car, Damon offers his hand and together they go inside.

"Damon, you're ba…?" Vicky's words die on her lips when she notices the hand holding.

"Hey Vic," he nods and urges Elena into his office where Matt is sitting at his desk, working on a crossword puzzle.

"So it's been quiet?" Damon chuckles.

"Caught a handful of people speeding coming into town, kept Toby Fell for an overnight... drunken and disorderly conduct. Got Mrs. Young's cat out of the tree again."

"Typical few days," Damon mentions, looking over the ticket slips that Matt handed him.

"Ah ha, oh and Trevor Wolloe passed away, funeral was yesterday."

"What happened?" Damon flashes a quick glance at Elena.

"He was doing some yardwork with Rose, clutched his chest and collapsed. Doctor Hazlett says it was a heart attack."

A pallor washes over Elena's face as she drops into the chair behind her. "I can't believe it."

"What a coincidence," Damon shakes his head.

"He was in his 70's and in poor health, Damon. I mean it's not uncommon for someone his age to have a heart attack. We've both seen him throw nitro pills under his tongue."

"You're right, Matt," he agrees. "I'm going to take Elena home. Do you need me to come back?"

"Nah, you're probably tired from traveling. I'll sleep in tomorrow while you return to work," Matt laughs, and walks outside with the two of them.

"Thanks Matt," Damon shakes his hand and slides in the vehicle, waving at his friend as they drive off. Noticing Elena lost in the thought, he lays his hand on hers and gives it a squeeze. When she looks over at him, she gives him a sad smile.

"The convergence of events, Damon. I don't know how to describe it. It's like you know when you push a domino and they all topple over. Katherine dies, now Trevor, somehow it feels like karma."

"It's quite a coincidence," he agrees, letting go of her hand when he turns into his driveway. They both sit in silence staring at nothing for several minutes before Damon leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just flabbergasted by it all I guess."

"Well Elena, sometimes things happen for a reason..."

* * *

"You hungry?" Damon asks, handing Elena a snifter of brandy. Taking a seat beside her on the couch, he lifts his legs onto the coffee table and stretches out.

She takes a sip and lays her hand on his thigh. "It's good."

"I'm actually more of a bourbon guy but this is pretty smooth. My mom likes it so I keep a bottle on hand if I invite them for supper or something.

"So when do I get to meet the elusive Giuseppe and Jenna Salvatore?" she gives his flesh a squeeze.

"Soon, I promise but it's not like I've been hiding you, when have we had time to take a drive out to the vineyards?" he takes a long swallow of his own.

"I'm not accusing you of anything Damon. And you know what, I'm not hungry, I'm more exhausted than anything."

"Emotionally?"

"Both," she confirms, leans her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes drop closed.

"Okay, let's go to bed," he finishes what's left in his glass, then with a twinkle in his eyes, picks her up and carries her to the bedroom. "I'm going to take a shower, I won't be long," he bends over to give her a quick kiss. He tosses her one of his tee shirts and then disappears into the bathroom.

He strips down, steps into the tub and turns the water on high, letting it beat down over his head in steamy rivulets. Closing his eyes as the heat soaks into his skin, he leans against the cool tiles in exhaustion.

Suddenly the shower curtain is ripped back and he doesn't even flinch, engrossed as he is with the water cascading down his body.

"Elena, what are you doing?"

She cracks a smile and steps in with him. "Enjoying the view..."

"Oh, honey."

She watches as the water runs over his skin like a caress, how has she fallen in love with this man? Slowly, she raises a hand, cups his cheek and leans close to kiss him gently, not caring if she gets wet.

He grabs her by the waist, pulling her against his chest. His hand gently glides through her wet hair. Her eyes are candles in that night, their light a spark of passion... desire. As a small but teasing smile creeps on her face, goosebumps line her skin, not the kind than one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now.

Feeling his hands glide over her now wet body, he drops his mouth to hers, disregarding the fact that he is naked and she's clothed as he pulls her deeper into a kiss.

When they part, she wispily touches her lips and then her smile grows so big that her face is beaming.

Damon's smile turns into an adorable pout when she gets out. After pulling her wet shirt off dramatically giving him a delicious view of her voluptuous breasts, she wraps a towel around herself, winks at him teasingly and leaves the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Minx," he mumbles and finishes washing himself. As soon as he has his pajamas on, he crawls into bed beside her. She curls up against him, covering her mouth when she yawns.

"It feels good to have you in my bed, Elena. We can take it as slow as you want, I want to savor every minute with you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she presses a kiss to his pectoral muscle.

"I know we're both tired, we can talk about it tomorrow but we'll have to decide how we're going to play this, whether we just let everyone keep thinking that John was guilty or if we stir up the proverbial hornet's nest?"

"It's been 40 years, Damon, a few more days won't hurt," she yawns again and closes her eyes. When she feels his lips on the crown of her head, she drapes her arm possessively across his chest and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Several days pass and Elena could get used to living the small town life. She likes the pace, the people, the beautiful scenery in this little part of the world. Most of all, she loves being with Damon. Still she knows they have things to take care of but how will they do this? Damon was already gone when she woke up so after taking a nice relaxing bath, she slips on a pair of jogging shorts, a tee shirt and her running shoes. Slipping the house key into her bra, she puts her ear buds in and then takes off down the street. It feels good to run in the fresh air with her heart pumping. She turns at the end of the block to go downtown, she wants to surprise Damon with a good cup of hot coffee.

It's been a quiet morning so far, Damon is sitting in his chair, his back towards the door as he stares out the window and onto Main street. He feels edgy and a little anxious. He knows that Elena will need to go back to her life... What will he do when she leaves, he suspects once everything with John is settled?

He spins around when he hears the door crack. Vicky's slips inside, "Damon, someone's here to see you."

"Send them in, thanks Vic."

She nods and opens the door, allowing the tall regal looking woman to enter. "Mrs. Parker?" Damon utters, a little shocked to see Katherine's daughter Nadia standing in front of him. "Please have a seat," he gestures to one with his hand.

"I am here at my mother's behest, she made me promise to bring this letter," she pulls it out of her purse and hands it to Damon.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee?" he fills two Styrofoam cups and hands one to her. Just as he's about to sit down, there's another knock on the door, again Vicky pokes her head in.

"Miss Gilbert is here."

"I was wondering where she was?" Nadia smiles.

"Send her in," he greets her at the door.

"Nadia?" Elena's eyes pop slightly seeing the woman seated before her.

"Hello, Elena," The two women embrace for a few seconds.

"I'm very sorry for you loss, Nadia."

"Thank you and that's actually why I'm here. I brought a letter from my mother. It's a detailed account of what happened the night Logan Fell died. She also had a request that I hope you can honor? She wants to be reunited with her brother, buried next to him. I have her remains with me, her body was cremated."

"She doesn't want to be buried beside your father?"

"Daddy died ten years ago, also cremated but he wanted his remains scattered at his favorite place, Crater Lake, Oregon. It's a national park, a beautiful one at that but the point is, she can't be buried beside him."

"Damon?" Elena looks to him.

"I think that can be arranged."

"Thank you, sheriff. I also have to thank you for letting my mother die in peace. It was a great relief for her to reveal the truth about John."

"I think Damon and I both know that she had her own burdens to bear."

"And Elena, after I return to Boston, I am going to try to visit her periodically but I'm asking you to watch over her grave. Maybe you could visit from time to time too if your travels allow?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Nadia." Elena squeezes her hand. Damon eyes her carefully, his stomach twisting a little bit at the thought of her leaving but quickly disguises it when Elena smiles at him like he holds all the answers to all the questions the universe holds.

* * *

The sun shines brilliantly and its glare is bright and cheerful. It's mid morning, the weather is warm but not too hot, only a smattering of wisp-like clouds in the sky. Wild flowers are blooming on the hilltops that surround the solemn place, it's a beautiful repose for those who have been laid to rest there. Elena takes Damon's hand as they slowly walk to John's grave.

Damon and Nadia talked to the cemetery's caretaker about Katherine's wish to be buried with her brother. Being a twin himself, he personally knows the bond that two siblings who share a womb feel, he's the mirror twin to his older by 5 minutes brother.

With Katherine's urn in her hand, Nadia carefully lowers it into the freshly dug up ground. Laying her hand on the small marble fox, she closes her eyes. "Oh mother, you could give Elmira Gulch a run for her money sometimes but you were an amazing wife and mother..." her voice chokes and her eyes water. Elena lets go of Damon's hand and stoops down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Standing up, Damon takes the shovel and covers the box, while Nadia grips Elena's hand tightly.

"She's happy now, she's with her brother," comes from behind them. Elena's shocked to see Sheila approach with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. When she reaches them, she lays the fragrant blooms on the grave as soon as Damon is done packing the earth down. "You didn't know them when they were young, I did. They were inseparable until that woman drifted into town."

"You have my sympathy," she takes Nadia's hand in hers. "I'm Sheila Bennett."

"Sheila, this is Katherine's daughter, Nadia."

"I wanted to pay my respects."

"Thank you," Nadia nods and kneels down again, wanting to spend some time with her mother.

"I'll walk you back to your car, Sheila," Elena starts to walk with the older woman. When they reach it, Elena leans against it and turns her head to face her. "Nadia brought a letter from Katherine. Her last wish was that John's good name be restored."

"Listen, Miss Gilbert..."

"Please call me Elena," she offers the woman her hand, a shake for a new start.

"The people who knew and cared about John always knew the truth - and out of respect for the man he was, they kept their mouths shut about Katherine. It was the least we could do when he gave up his life for her. Just let them both rest in peace now. There's nothing to be served by dredging it all up again," Sheila squeezes Elena's hand. Noticing Damon coming down the hill towards them, she gestures with her head at him.

"Take care of that one, Damon's a good man."

"Thank you, Sheila," Elena steps away when she gets in and drives off, waving at Damon as she does.

Damon folds Elena into his arms and kisses the top of her head. "Nadia wanted a few minutes alone. She's leaving this afternoon."

"Sheila gave me a piece of advice," Elena mentions, laying her head against his steadily beating heart.

"And?"

"She said to let them rest now."

"I've had a few thoughts about it myself. I'll do whatever it is you want me to do, Elena but I think we should simply put the letter in John's file. I could take it to court but then it makes headlines and this whole thing will be dredged up again. If we honor Katherine's wish, we dishonor John's. How do we choose?"

"What she told me about John..., honestly, Damon, it feels like closure and oddly enough, I'm okay with that."

* * *

Katherine is buried as is Trevor along with their secrets, Nadia left and Damon starts feeling anxious again.

_Now is the moment when Elena decides she's been there for too long and gets back to her life in Virginia Beach. _

He should man up and just ask her but he sort of likes holding onto the illusion that this is forever. He realizes how crazy it sounds, even in his own head, but during the last few weeks he's gotten used to her presence, he doesn't need to see her 24/7 but it's nice to come home after a busy day... to her. What does she do in the hours she spends alone in his house, in front of her computer? Did she find a way to work from here? Is it too much to hope for?

"Penny for your thoughts," Elena comes behind him and leans her chin against the top of his head.

"It's nothing," Damon murmurs, reaching for her hand, bringing it to his mouth.

"Are you sure? So you're not watching me like a ticking bomb that may explode at any moment?"

"I was just wondering..." _There, now just ask her_.

"You were wondering what?" Elena urges when he doesn't elaborate.

"When...," he starts again rather unwillingly. "...when are you going to... leave?"

He almost chokes on the words. What a coward he's become!

"Do you want me to leave...?" She looks at him closely, her tone losing some of its typical spunk.

_"NO,_ no Elena, of course not," he hurries to reassure her. "It's just... why would you want to stay in this tiny little town, you're a city girl, used to the hustle and rush and... you have your work and your family..."

While he's getting off his chest what's been clearly bothering him for some time, Elena hugs his shoulders, _her breasts pressing into his back are really distracting_, and gives him a mischievous smile. "I can think of at least one good reason to stay..."

His muscles go rigid, she can feel it where her body's touching his, but his heart, it's racing under her palm where he holds it against his chest. "And your family?"

"Reachable."

"Work?"

"Does the word freelance mean anything to you?"

"In that case..." He quickly pulls her on his lap, his mouth seeking the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder, doing magical things causing goose bumps to erupt on her skin.

"I'm never letting you go...," he murmurs.

_This one's a looker -and- a keeper._ Her grandma said so before they left.

Elena intends to hold him to the promise...

* * *

_One more chapter..._

_Thank you all for everything. We are truly humbled and grateful for all you do to support us. _

_Thank you Eva. Love you._

_Chapter title: 'Small Town' by John Mellencamp._

_'Endless Summer Nights' will update next. _

_I hope you all have a lovely day. Thank again so much for your amazing support. _


	9. The Glory of Love

_**Happy birthday to our dear friend Kate. You know her as Florencia7. Hope you're having a spectacular day. **_

* * *

By the time Elena gets home, night has enveloped the small town in a blanket of darkness. She scurries down the path towards their house, her shoes slapping against the stone steps that lead to the front door. Fallen leaves litter the walkway, bathing it in dark red and orange, and she steps on them with a satisfying crunch. The porch light is on, and the familiar yellow glow makes the house feel warm and inviting. Noticing the brand new flower pots filled with pink, blue and yellow chrysanthemums, she stoops over to take a whiff, a smile building on her face.

_Damon..._

The metal of the doorknob is cool against her palm and she twists it with ease, entering the well-lit living room. She sets her suitcase on the floor in the foyer, lays her purse on the half table and walks into the living room. She's been in Washington DC for the last week researching the Hope Diamond and its curse for a book she hopes to write. Before coming home, she stopped in Virginia Beach to spend two nights with her parents and grandmother.

"You're home," Damon quickly closes the distance between them, and greets her with a searing, soul-shattering kiss that weakens her knees.

Pulling back slightly, he holds her face in both of his hands. "I've been counting the minutes... I missed you, Elena," he whispers.

She smiles brightly and her eyes shine, reflecting all the love she feels for her man. Snaking her arms around his neck and dropping her voice a few octaves lower, she purrs seductively, "Show me."

Fingertips like matchsticks graze her skin with flame, igniting a passion that she's only felt with him.

Damon backs up, drops onto the couch and pulls her onto his lap wordlessly telling her he needs more of a connection, or that they both do. His eyes are so different in moments like these, more soft. The professional man is gone and instead they are the eyes of the man who loves her deeply. In all the world there isn't another like him.

With care and attention, he strips them out of their tops and unzips her jeans far enough for him to sink his hand in. He circles her clit and thrusts two fingers inside, while his other hand unclasps her bra so he can start suckling and nipping at her breasts.

She tangles her fingers in his obsidian hair that falls in tousled locks, framing his face. His warmth seeps into her being and comforts her with his mere presence alone.

Working in tandem, his fingers and mouth have her spiraling in a matter of minutes. Making quick work of her jeans and panties, Damon lays her on the couch. After throwing her knees over his shoulders, he buries his face between her legs and groans in pleasure as he plunders her flesh and soon she's flying again.

While her body is still trembling, he captures her lips. His kiss is steeped in a fiery gusto that ignites her body all over again. When she can see straight, Elena pushes him down and kisses every inch of his ripped body, spending an extra long time with her mouth around his manhood. He groans and bucks his hips, the passion is intense and intoxicating.

Somehow he finds the wherewithal to drag her up, kiss her hard while flipping her onto her back then he's inside of her, their grunts and hisses creating a symphony in the room. He moves slow at first, gliding in and out, building the heat inside her and staving off his own release, until her bucking hips urge him to go harder, faster and deeper. Only moments later, they climax together before collapsing in a sweaty, sated, well-loved heap.

Damon wraps his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body and she lets her head rest upon his chest. All her thoughts stop as if her heart takes over from her head when they're so close. Next he squeezes as if he needs to check she is really there with him and really real... and she is, body, mind and soul.

* * *

The next morning they take their time making love in the shower, Damon insisted on welcoming her home properly. As soon as they're dressed in casual wear, shorts, tee shirts and sandals, they hop into his vintage Camaro to drive to his parent's vineyard and winery, Chateau Salvatore. The vineyard lies in the beautiful foothills of the Appalachian Mountains and the rolling hills are perfect for growing quality wine grapes.

Damon has told Elena how much he enjoyed growing up there and still loves the place. He still helps out sometimes if his mom and dad ask. After parking the car, he takes her by the hand and walks into the vineyard itself. The lush green, crouched low to the earth, gripping thick, harsh vines will prick and splinter her fingers if they're not careful. Damon plucks one of the swelled ripe fruit and plops it in his mouth, sighing happily at the flavor.

"I want one," she pouts, earning a chuckle from him. He picks a cluster and they stuff them into their mouths before turning around to go into the winery to say hello to his folks and do a little wine tasting.

"Damon, Elena, I'm happy to see you," Jenna remarks, waving them over.

"Mom," Damon kisses her cheek. "Is dad around?" he asks, his eyes darting around the room.

"He's in here some place," she looks around, crooking her arm to wave him over when their eyes meet.

"Hello Elena," the older Salvatore gives her a hug. "You two look low key today," he peruses her and his son.

"Well, we came to taste some wine and we figured that if we have too much, we might be able to crash in my old room tonight?" Damon waggles his brows playfully at his dad.

"Go on," he laughs and goes to mingle among some of their other guests.

"At least plan to stay for supper," Jenna tilts her head, looking at her son.

"Sure, mom," he chuckles, links his hand with Elena's and leads her to the wine tasting area. After holding the chair out for her, he sits down himself and signals a waitress who brings over a tray of five different glasses of wine. Elena watches Damon swirl the first glass in his hand before raising it to his nose to breathe it in.

"Your turn," he hands it to her. She stares at the way the light hits the surface, glistening as the liquid swirls in the glass, before lowering her nose to inhale.

"It smells good, like apples and honey," she takes a sip, sighing at the sweet notes that lead to a crisp finish.

"That's the Cyzer, one of my favorites," Damon takes the glass from her to have a sip too. Setting it down, he picks up another one.

"Try this one," he hands it to her.

"It smells like wine," she deadpans, shaking her head while bringing the rim to her nose.

"Yes, it smells like wine but there's more."

"I didn't grow up in a winery you know," she arches an eyebrow before taking another whiff.

"It isn't rocket science," he laughs. "Just tell me what you smell?"

"I know this probably sounds crazy but it's tobacco and black pepper."

"Very good, this is mom and dad's 2016 George's Cuvee. Now what else?"

"Plums," she takes a sip and hands it to Damon.

"It's delicious. Do your parents ship nationwide?"

"They do," he nods, picking up the third glass, swilling it in his mouth and enjoying the flavors as they blend on his tongue.

"Next time I go home, I'm taking a few bottles with me," she remarks, looking around the quaint room. It has a brick interior, a fire place, wooden tables and chairs, low lighting, and a long bar. "The ambience really adds to the experience," she looks around, taking another swallow when he hands her the glass. "Do they sell these too?" she asks, running her fingertip over the intricate etchings of the Chateau Salvatore script.

"I'm sure I can get you a couple," he laughs. They sample a few other bottles, the Chardonnay, barrel fermented in Hungarian oak with layers of Pineapple, citrus and pear. And lastly, he buys a bottle of the Francesco's Cabernet Named after Damon's grandfather, it has aromatics of black fruit including black cherry & blackcurrant. When they finish, Elena excuses herself to use the bathroom, "I'll meet you outside," she slowly lets go of his fingers, blushing slightly when he winks at her.

"Well?" he turns and smiles as she joins him.

She faces him and smiles back. "There's something to be said for wine tasting."

He kisses her lightly on the mouth. "Then we're gonna have to do it more often."

"Anytime you want, I'm willing."

He holds her eyes with his own, his face turning serious. "I love you, Elena."

She shakes her head. "Every time I look at you, I have to pinch myself." She smiles, rubbing her hand over his jeans- clad ass in light easy strokes. "If not for grandma…"

"I beg to differ, if not for your lead foot...," he quirks a brow at her.

"Oh really?" she teases, giving his rear end a little pinch.

He removes her hand and wraps both of them around his neck. "Best arrest I ever made."

The protest dies on her lips when he covers her mouth with his.

_Damn, he really is a romantic and he's all hers..._

* * *

_Tremendous thanks to all of you. You're the very best of the DE fandom, there's no arguing that point. _

_Thank you Eva. You're the best._

_Chapter title: 'The Glory of Love' by Peter Cetera._

_Have a terrific day and a wonderful week._


End file.
